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aaronhotchswife · 5 months

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THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL

Drew Starkey X Female Reader

Chapter 2

Warnings : alcohol, panick attack, angst, want to give the reader a hug, smut, loss of virginity

If you missed chapter 1

"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter." - James Earl Jones

Y/N's point of view

I'm at Madelyn's, curled up on the couch with a hot tea in my hands. I don't want to go home, because I know that Drew will be there, with Odessa probably. I don't have the strength to see him. Even if at the same time, he is the only person I want to see.

I now know what heart break feels like and I now know that I have to teach my heart to accept disappointments, even from the people I love, even from him.

Madelyn is sitting next to me, playing with my hair. I respond to the worried texts of my friends, saying that I'm okay and that I'm sorry to have ruined their night. They are all understanding and tell me to have a great trip at my parents for the holidays, and to take time for myself. I respond to all of them except Drew. I just write him that I'm at Madelyn's and that I'll pass by tomorrow to get my suitcase for the holidays. I ignore his texts asking me what happened. I just answer him to have a great Christmas before turning off my phone and go to sleep.

Drew's point of view

I think I'm in love with Y/N since I saw her for the first time. When everyone got cast, we had dinner at the restaurant to get to know each other. I was sitting with the boys, talking about what we liked in life, when I saw her, making her way to the table. She was wearing a yellow summer dress with white converses. Her hair was tied up in a effortless ponytail, and I swear that in that moment, I saw the most beautiful girl in the world.

But I think that I truly fell in love with her 3 months after we met. We were walking in the city, and we saw a kid looking for his parents. Without hesitation, she made her way to him, kneeling at his height, asking him if he needed help. The kid was inconsolable so she sat with him, telling him stories and making him laugh until his parents found him again. In that moment, I knew. I knew that she could have broke my heart in a thousand pieces and I would've been grateful.

Since that day, three years ago, it always been the two of us, until tonight.

So when I arrive at Madelyn's apartment, I want nothing more than to have answers. I feel sick to think I could've put her in that state. I knock at her door, rubbing my hands in my face. When she opens the door, I can see how annoy she is at me.

"She's sleeping."

"Ok, then tell her I passed by and that I want to talk. Please," we're both surprised by my shaking voice. "What the hell happened out there ?"

"Maybe you should ask that to your friend Odessa, Drew. I know she is your friend, but you should've seen the state Y/N was. Getting humiliated like that in front of her friends, in front of you."

"In front of me?" I struggled to ask, my brows furrowed.

"Please Drew," she chuckled coldly. "As if she wanted you to know that she was a virgin. I'll let her know you passed by, but you need to let her some space, she has a lot on her mind right now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You should go, Drew, she'll talk to you when she's ready."

I leave her house, cursing to myself. When I go to bed that night, I can't stop thinking about her, about us, about how I lost something I never had.

Y/N's point of view

I leave Madelyn's apartment early this morning, figuring out that if I go to our apartment early enough, chances will be that Drew will still be asleep. I guessed right because when I unlock the door, I can hear him snoring lightly.

***

As I'm driving to my parents' house, I put my Christmas playlist on shuffle, question to get into the mood. As I get on the highway, the song Blue Christmas by The Lumineers starts playing. I feel like it's the first time in my life where I can really relate to this song. My mind starts to wonder, how will Drew's Christmas will be like. How will my Christmas be like. I can feel the tears burning my eyes as I try my best to stay concentrated on the road.

***

I'm sitting on the sofa; my parents and my brother are talking about something I can't decipher. I'm scrolling on my phone, through Instagram. My heart skips a beat when I see a picture that Mackayla posted. I look at the picture, where Drew all smiling, is photographed with his family. I read the caption as it says "Merry Christmas from our family to yours.'' I double tap on it, liking it, even if it feels as if my heart throws itself down the 18th floor to see him smile like that.

Drew's point of view

Christmas sucks this year. I try my best to act like everything is fine, to act as if she's not mad at me. But my mind keeps wandering and I keep asking myself why she acted like that. I mean, sure what Odessa did was not nice, but I keep asking myself what was the meaning behind Madelyn's words.

''Drew!'' Brooke's voice pulls me out of my thoughts, ''We're opening the gifts!''

I sit on the floor, watching my mom handing me a gift. I unwrap it, finding an air fryer under the paper. Before I can say anything, my mom almost screams, ''It's for you and Y/N! I know how you both love easy and quick cooking.''

I laugh slightly, trying to push away the thought that I miss her, that I love her, and that I hope that our friendship can pass through whatever happened that night.

Y/N ‘s point of view

As I come home 2 days later, I see Drew laying on his bed, reading a book. I feel my heart throbbing in my chest, and weirdly, for the first time, I don’t know how to act around him. A mix of thoughts is spinning around in my head, and I find myself wondering if I should apologize to him for how I acted at the bar. Madelyn told me how he went to her apartment to have answers and I can’t imagine how bad he must’ve felt.

He must have felt that I was standing in the doorframe of his room because he turned his head, looking at me with so much gentleness, as if he was afraid to break me just with his gaze.

''Hi.'' I say, making an effort to keep my voice steady.

''Hi.''

I make my way to him, laying next to him on the bed.

He clears his throat before speaking again, ''how was your Christmas?''

''T'was fun,'' I answer, my eyes focused on his bedroom's ceiling, ''what about yours?''

''Was great, my mom says hi,'' he smiles.

''We should talk,'' we say at the same time.

Drew chuckled softly, and for the first time since I'm laying next to him, I stop looking at the ceiling, looking at him instead.

''I feel like I owe you an apology for how I acted at the bar,'' I say, my voice not even louder than a whisper. But I know he heard me he interrupts me.

''No, I should apologize. I should've done something while you were having a panick attack. Does it happen often ?''

Drew's point of view

I look into her eyes as I ask my question. I can see her breath getting stuck in her chest.

''It's fine if you don't want to talk about it,'' I say, giving her an occasion of changing subject.

''No, it's ok,'' she answers, ''I used to happen a lot more when I was younger. I used to do them when there were a lot of people or noises. But the one a couple of days ago was the first in a long time. I thought I was getting better, I honestly did. But sometimes, I just lay in bed at 3 am, trying to figure out what is wrong with me and why I'm never enough.''

''I'm sorry,'' I say to her. I truly feel sorry for her, because I know that she can't see herself the way I see her. So strong, always there for the others, always happy. I'm cursing mentally to not have realized how she was doing.

''You don't have to be sorry Drew.''

My hand reaches for hers and my gaze goes from her eyes to her lips. I can see hers do the same. I just want to close that gap between our lips. But before I can do anything, she turns her head, excusing herself and leaving me alone in my room.

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#drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey angst #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey fanfiction #Spotify

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suzukiblu · 5 months

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Day seventeen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I think it's pretty normal to give someone a phone when you want to talk to them,” Tim lies. Bruce gives the other Bats burners sometimes, though. And also communicators. And Robin’s loaned plenty of allies communicators before, including Superboy. So it's normal in their circles, whether Kon actually knows they're both in said circles or not.

“. . . I like the green one,” Kon says after a moment, which is a little bit of a surprise. It's a nice sort of deep, leafy color, Tim guesses, but he would've expected Kon to go for black or red or blue; maybe yellow.

He wonders how green Hawaii is, come to think of it.

And how much green Kon regularly sees these days, living underground in a lab.

“Okay,” he says, then gestures towards the phone case display with his smoothie. “Let's get you a screen protector and a case too, just in case.”

“You don’t have to,” Kon says. “I mean, I am gonna have my TTK on it.”

“Yeah, but that only works if nobody knocks it off the table or something when you’re not holding it,” Tim says. “Besides, better safe than sorry, right?”

“Um, okay,” Kon says. Tim leads him over to the phone cases, and Kon glances them over indecisively, clearly paying more attention to the price tags than personal preference. Tim decides distraction is the better part of valor, in this case.

“I don’t recommend anything superhero-themed, for the record,” he jokes. Kon snorts.

“That’s called a feint, thank you very much,” he informs him mock-primly. “Nobody’d think a superhero would actually have the balls to go around with a superhero-themed phone case.”

“They’d think Superboy would,” Tim says in amusement.

“. . . okay, fair,” Kon allows, making a face at himself. Tim laughs.

“How about that one?” he suggests, pointing towards the second-most expensive one on the rack–so Kon will know money isn’t a concern, but also so Kon won’t realize he’s specifically doing it to make sure he knows money isn’t a concern.

“It looks like a tire tread,” Kon says wryly, which is a fair assessment. It’s one of the heavy-duty cases, so it’s pretty bulky as it is, and the pattern on it is a little tire-like.

“The ones down here have glitter, if that’s more your thing,” Tim replies in amusement, pointing again.

“Glitter is more my thing,” Kon says, leaning over to peer down at the indicated row. Tim probably should’ve expected that response, considering, except also he would absolutely never have expected Kon to willingly admit to liking glitter. At least not without being concussed first. “Hmmmmm.”

“That's a nice one,” Tim says. Kon’s looking at a green and blue case with bright gold glitter swirled all over it in abstract designs; it looks a bit like ocean water, if you look at it the right way. It’s definitely not going to be anywhere near as durable as the tire tread one would, but Tim isn’t particularly concerned about that anyway. He was gonna get accident insurance no matter what. Statistically speaking, Kon will probably go through more than a few of these. He hasn't had the same phone for longer than three months since starting up as Robin. Something always seems to happen to them. Usually a supervillain.

“Too bad they don’t have anything with a cute little goat on it,” Kon jokes as he straightens back up, regrettably letting go of Tim's hand to take the green and blue glitter-case off the wall. “You know, commemorate our first date and all.”

“That was not our first date,” Tim says, mildly disgruntled but mostly flustered by the idea. “I'd have planned a date a lot better than those morons planned their dumb heist. And bought you something from the gift shop, if nothing else.”

“Could've just kept the goat, I guess, but Superman would've made me give it back anyway,” Kon muses idly as he looks over the case in his hand and takes another sip of his smoothie. “This is for the right model, right?”

“Should be,” Tim says, though he double-checks anyway. “Yeah, no, you're good. Lemme go grab a clerk so we can get the plan set up. We'll just go through my name, I can probably set up autopay for the bill easier that way.”

“Um, sure,” Kon says, biting his lip for a moment and then glancing sidelong at him. “So is this our first date, then?”

“No,” Tim says, though technically it probably is. But given how Kon’s been acting about the idea that Tim would actually be interested in dedicating actual time and attention to him–“I'll take you somewhere nice for that.”

“Somewhere nice?” Kon says, hiding a very unsubtle grin behind the phone case. It'd work better if his stupid pretty eyes weren't sparkling for it, Tim thinks in resigned accusation. Kon doesn’t ask what “somewhere nice” means, but Tim is already trying to figure out what restaurants he knows that might appeal to Kon’s palate. If he likes Hawaiian flavors . . . there’s some Asian influence in that, right? He thinks, anyway. Japanese, at least. Maybe Filipino? Polynesian? Any other influences or parallel cuisines he’d have to look up to figure out, though.

Tim knows absolutely no Filipino or Polynesian restaurants, much less actually authentic Hawaiian ones. He could definitely do Japanese, though. Japanese would be easy. Just going to a restaurant isn’t much of a date, probably, and he can’t take Kon on patrol or anything like he and Steph used to do, but they could maybe go shopping in a nicer boutique or something? Or go to a museum for actual entertainment instead of just business, if Kon would be interested in something like that. Admittedly, it’s hard to picture him being particularly into museums as a concept, but it might be worth a try.

Maybe he’d like the aquarium or planetarium more than something involving art or history or science, though. Those are a little cooler than just wandering through a bunch of random exhibits, Tim thinks. Or at least, they might appeal more to Kon. The ocean, or stars and planets, or . . . like, whatever, he guesses.

He’ll have to do some recon, probably. Light interrogation. Figure out what Kon would be the most interested in.

Or they could just go to the beach. It’d require a little bit of travel on his part, but likely wouldn’t be a big deal for Kon; he could just fly. Though in retrospect Kon’s probably spent about half his life on a beach, so maybe that’s not interesting enough. And the Jersey Shore probably wouldn’t measure up to Hawaii in his eyes, either.

Hm. Yeah, Tim's definitely going to have to do some recon.

Tim is possibly putting in too much effort here, considering Kon is going to lose interest in actually flirting with him in about five minutes. Kon never seems to really properly date anyone, as far as Tim's seen; just flirt around a lot. So he should be prioritizing shopping and apartment hunting, really, before Kon gets bored of the flavor of the week and wanders off.

Tim Drake is not exactly an exciting date, so . . . yeah, Tim’s not expecting Kon to stay interested for long. He’s just got to take advantage of it for as long as it lasts to leverage Kon into letting him buy him that cul-de-sac and go from there, that’s all. Kon seems to stay friendly with the girls he flirts with even after things fizzle out or fail to go anywhere, so he assumes it won’t be any different with Tim Drake. As long as Kon’ll let him keep paying his way, that’s all that’s going to matter.

Tim is really going to need to frontload that, though. Establish him paying for Kon as the new status quo very quickly and get Kon used to it before he loses interest in him, so he won’t feel awkward about accepting it by then. Or so Tim will already have signed all the paperwork and it’ll be too late for Kon to protest; whichever.

He’s definitely going to have to frontload it.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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slashingdisneypasta · 9 months

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Captain Hook x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: ⬇⬇⬇

'You should have met me in 1984. You would've liked me.''I like you now.'

(From The Vampire Diaries)

Warnings: ... softness???...

Tagging: @asperol-with-izzy , @disney-android-foundation , @lady-love88 , @marinerainbow , @miss_understood , and @ryantryan6969 . Hi, I hope you are all ready for some romance featuring one Captain Hook! ^^ Have a great day, and I hope you enjoy ^^

"My dear, you are beautiful... tonight, and always." He speaks quietly, looking thoughtful as he uses his hook to gently release your hair from under the collar on his coat and carefully arrange it over your shoulder. His eyes are on you but they're far off. You're not sure he's really here, right now, truly. "... You should have met me before all this madness... before this blasted land. Before Peter, and my hand... You would've liked me. I would've- I would've been sure to deserve you, then." Hook's fingers on your face, knuckles gently brushing your jaw, feel like complete heaven to you as well as his dark romantic eyes on your face. His coat around your body is warm and makes you feel loved and cared for, and the breeze in your hair makes you feel like you're on air but his words are all too wrong and it makes you feel suddenly confused; Eyes round and eyebrows furrowed and head tilted to the side at him.

"... Hm?" You've just had the loveliest night with him. He made all of his men leave the ship for the night so you could be alone together and watch the sky get dark. You watched the sky turn a pale blue first, then yellow, and orange, and pink... then blue again and now its black- its night, and it cold, and you have a charming man's coat on. Its a perfect night... but now he's saying some things you just don't understand. You? Would've liked him?? Would've???

"I was a gentleman, back then... I would've taken you on the grandest dates, shown you sights almost as beguiling as you are, taken care of you, and your family... made you happy. ... Unfortunately, all I can proffer you now is the chill in the damn Neverland air and this old coat." His hair is silhouetted by the lamp behind him and you can see the breeze ruffling the messy locks so you reach up and run your fingers through it.

"Grande dates? Hm... could've sworn we were on one of those right now." You flash a gentle, hesitant grin. He cant be serious about the things he's saying, can he?

Chuckling softly, Hook shakes his head. "This is nothing, dear. I wish I could give you so much better... A treasure like you is supposed to be spoiled. And once upon a time, I was a better man- I would've made that- you- taking care of you, and making you happy, my entire life."

To this, you don't know what to say. Your mouth falls open as if needing to say something- but no words come out. Closing it again, you lower your hand from his hair let it slide down his hook arm; Squeezing gently. An attempt to comfort.

"Which is not to say that I wont try, now... " As he takes in a deep breath, he closes his eyes for a moment and furrows his brow's, the lines in his forehead getting deeper. "But unfortunately, my dear, you are looking at a broken man. I can only offer half my heart, to you- the rest is taken by an infernal desire for revenge. And I... I'm sorry, but I'm not good enough, to overcome it. Not even for you."

... Oh... That's what this is about.

You see.

Squeezing this sad-sack's arm a little more firmly, you take a step into him, so you truly need to crane your neck back to see his face. "... I don't care. I'll take what you can give me."

His eyes pop open again, and he looks at you with a surprised expression. "What?- "

"I like you now, Hook." Sliding your hand back up his arm and to his shoulder, you use him to balance you as you get onto your tip-toes and give his cold cheek a kiss. "So, you take your revenge on that Peter... or you try. You can try every single day, if you want to. You two can chase eachother back and forth all day, every day. But just come back to me at night and have dinner with me, okay? Have dinner with me, and kiss me, and hold my hand, and I'll be happy. I'll be over the moon."

"My dear- "

"James." He gulps, hearing you pull first-name on him. "Just kiss me, okay? And think about what I've said; Let it sink in. I want you, I need you to understand that."

"... th- think? That's rather hard to do, while kissing you; You know?"

Giggling, you curl your hand around his neck and gently guide him down. "I believe in you, Captain."

"Alright, my dear; I will try." With a bemused, pleased smile - like he's the luckiest bastard in the universe, - Hook does so.

#Captain Hook x Reader #Disney Captain Hook x Reader #Disney Captain Hook #Captain Hook #Captain Hook x Reader Excerpt #Disney Captain Hook x Reader Excerpt #Excerpt #Disney Villain #Disney Villains #Disney Villains x Reader

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ssparksflyy · 3 months

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heyyy can i pls get a rachel elizabeth dare x fem! reader ? maybe in which the reader finds some drawings of her in rachel's sketchbook (you know, artist in love)

p.s: im working in your request <3

ask and thou shall recieve ༉‧₊˚.

draw me like one of your french girls ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

pairing: rachel elizabeth dare x fem!reader summary : your girlfriend has always proudly shown you all her artwork, or so you thought warning(s) : none! just fluff ♡ word count : 1.4k a/n : hihi! tysm for requesting! i hope this fits what u imagined :DD also best believe i took inspo from ghostflower to make thisss AND ik it says rachel lives in the oracle's CAVE but like nah lemme give me girl a flippin cabin omg 😭

at this point, it was just routine for you to head to rachel's cabin after activities.

your last activity of the day before dinner was arts and crafts. you found it funny, how you'd spend around an hour or so trying to paint the simplest thing, fail, and then head to rachel's, only to find her painting the next mona lisa.

that made you all the more impressed and appreciative of rachel's artwork. some days, she'd be in her 'painters trance' and you'd just watch her paint. you found yourself in your own trance, watching her simply glide the paintbrush across the canvas and manage to create a masterpiece. forget davinci, picasso, or van gogh. rachel was your favorite artist.

today, in arts and crafts, you had experimented with clay. you managed to sculpt out a pretty good-looking strawberry. you planned to give it to rachel later, after all, they were her favorite fruit. she loved taking you on walks through the strawberry fields, holding your hand and smiling the whole time.

after arts and crafts had ended, you hugged your friends goodbye and began to descend into the woods, to rachel's cabin.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

once you arrived at rachel's cabin, you climbed the steps that led up to the door and knocked on it. you took a step back, waiting for a response, but it didn't come. you frowned and looked around on the porch. near the door, rachel had enough room for a chair and a small side table on the porch. on the side table lay a note, in rachel's handwriting,

"hi love! im out getting flowers right now, i've got this super cool idea i want to try! the door's unlocked, so just let yourself in :) i should be back soon ♡♡

xoxo, rachel ♡

p.s. if you're not (y/n), then dont go in. sit on the chair. ill get to it when i get to it."

you smiled at the letter, you couldn't help but laugh at the way rachel's mood changes when not talking to you, even in writing. you left the note on the table, just in case somebody did need rachel and would have to wait on the chair.

you opened the door and walked into rachel's cabin, closing it behind you. you walked to her windows, opening the curtains and allowing the natural light to illuminate her room. rachel had told you about how much she'd preferred natural light or lamps, but never a main room light. she said they were too eye-straining and preferred the yellow-ish light that came from the sun and lamps.

after opening her windows, you looked around the room, eyes searching for something to do. you spotted one of rachel's sketchbooks on her desk. one you hadn't seen before.

'it must be new' you thought, walking over to her desk. you sat in her chair and gently placed your strawberry sculpture on the desk. you looked at the sketchbook, it was white and covered in heart stickers, you'd never seen this book before.

now, rachel always allowed you to look at her work. she'd always smile whenever she saw you lying in her bed, flipping through one of her many sketchbooks. she always said she didn't mind you going through and looking at her artwork, it made her happy.

so surely it was the same case for this book? but you'd never seen it before, and it did look pretty used. oh well, if you were a cat, curiosity definitely would've killed you in all 9 lives.

nothing could've prepared yourself for what you saw next. you expected to see the book full of prophecies, scenery, characters from rachel's favorite shows, doodles, not yourself.

you let out a small gasp when you opened the book, immediately met with a gorgeous drawing of you smiling (in like this pose ♡). the drawing was surrounded with small hearts and stars, and of course, rachel's signature near the bottom.

as you flipped through the pages you admired each drawing. rachel had seriously done such an amazing job on these drawings, you were amazed. as you continued to look through the book, you couldn't help but smile. with each turning page, your heart would flutter. the little person in your head was jumping around doing cartwheels saying 'ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh'.

you could've stared at the book for hours. around midway through however, your admiration had been interrupted.

you jumped up when you heard the door open, with a smiling rachel coming in behind her. as she came into the room, one of her arms holding dozens of flowers she said, "hey! sorry i wasn't here, but look at all the pretty flowers i-"

her sentence was brought to a halt when you turned in her chair, her sketchbook in hand. you had a soft smirk on your face, making sure she could see what you were holding.

she dropped the flowers that were once in her hand, her face immediately turning a bright shade of pink. the sides of her ears were turning red, the same way they always did when she was flustered. her lips were pressed into a thin line, unmoving. the poor girl seemed to be in too much of a shock to say anything.

but she didn't need to. slowly, you got up out of her chair, still holding the book in your hands, and began to walk towards her. you stopped right in front of her and squatted down to pick up a handful of flowers she had dropped. as you got back up, you met her eyes. they were full of panic. you simply smiled and handed her the book. she quickly grabbed it and shut it closed.

you let out a small laugh, rachel remained silent and flustered. you crouched down to pick up the rest of the flowers rachel had dropped.

"you know, im impressed you were able to draw all those poses with no references," you said, walking towards her desk and placing down the flowers. you then turned around and said, "you could've told me you needed a model."

rachel stayed frozen. you didn't think she'd be this embarrassed but you had to admit, it was funny. just then a great idea hit you. you began to walk over her bed and said, "i think i'd make a pretty good model right?" you asked, smirking. rachel's head followed your every move, but the rest of her body remained frozen in space, clutching the sketchbook tightly to her chest.

you sat down on rachel's bed and said, "i mean i've learnt from the best" you began to lay down on your side, resting your head on the pillow. you dramatically raised your hands to the side of your head like rose had in titanic as you said in an exaggerated wistful voice, "jack, draw me like one of your french girls".

this caused rachel to finally leave her state of shock, and instead slide her hand down her face, and covering her mouth. you put your hands down and laughed as she walked over to you with heavy steps. she kneeled down next to her bed so your faces would be the same level.

you smiled and moved your head to the edge of the bed, just inches away from hers.

"im sorry" rachel said, looking down at the sketchbook in her hands.

you furrowed your eyebrows, "for what?", you asked.

"for drawing you so much. i know it's weird" she said eyes focused on the book.

"hey look at me" you said, moving your face slightly closer to hers, "i love them. you're seriously so talented and im so glad i get to be the person who inspires your art. ok?"

rachel nodded slowly with a smile. you gave her a grin in return.

you placed a small kiss on her lips and rolled over on her bed, making room for her. "alright now cmere jack", you said.

she let out a small laugh and climbed into her bed. she wrapped her arms around your waist and rested her head in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

you began playing with her hair, wrapping her curls around your fingers. you both laid there in silence, just enjoying each other's company.

"hey (y/n)?" rachel said.

"yea?" you responded.

"i love you."

"i love you too rach." you said, smiling.

a/n pt.2: hii! i hope this is what you were looking for! <3 i love the whole artist in love :( need me someone to draw me like on of their french girls :( except can i not be butt-ass naked thanks

ANYWAY yea again, hope u enjoyed! tysm for reading and requesting! im almost done with all my asks and then i'll write some ideas i wrote down <33 ok, bye! hope u have a good day/night, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #rachel elizabeth dare #rachel elizabeth dare x reader #rachel dare x reader #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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jellyluvr · 10 months

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Trick

- Tate langdon x fem!reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Alright man. This is gonna be pretty kinky?? Idk. Fetishy? Uh anyway its just something I was thinking about 🤭🤭

Tw: hair pulling, degrading comments, degrading things??, shaming, and some anonymous head 😝 non con as well. Rape.

S: in your slutty Halloween costume you went to many house parties, leaving you drunk and pretty vulnerable on the street. Thankfully, it was pretty late, so no one was out. Except tate. So he follows u and takes advantage of you. (Sorry)

Hes so silly omg 🤭

You tripped over the concrete stairs, your white heels obnoxious and sparkly as you looked down to pay attention.

Halloween was always fun. Drinking, partying and being a slut. No one could say anything either.. you could've worn lingerie and been fine. To criticism at least.

This Halloween you had decided to be an angel. A slutty angel. You hadn't gotten your costume off Amazon either. You had made it.. and it was fucking fab. Or fabulous.

Your tiny little skirt raised up every time you walked, your white corset and low cut top showing off your chest quite nicely. You knew you were dressed horribly, but who would even care? It was their fault if they couldn't control their eyes. It wasn't like you were fingering yourself on the street.

And yeah, you had wings. They had just been ripped off, so you looked more like a stripper than an angel. Either way, you were just a girl out on the street.

The orange and purple lights decorated every house with ease, stupid pumpkins and candy scattered everywhere. But, the street was empty. Everyone had gone inside their houses and it made you wonder what time it was. You didn't have your phone, it was back at your house, so you couldn't check. You also didn't want to go and knock on someone's door, so you just stayed in the cold while you walked, tripping every so often.

Your heels clicked on the rough road, orange and yellow leaves coating practically every surface. Thankfully, the wind helped, but that had its pros and cons as well.

A sigh left your lips as your skin developed goosebumps, the cold air circling around you unbearable. You wished you had brought a jacket or something. Or a cute white cardigan. That would've been adorable..

Your hands moved up to your shoulders, holding them for any type of warmth as you crossed them, rubbing your hands against the visible skin. As you rubbed though, you heard something other than your rubbing. Of course it could've been the leaves but it wasn't coordinated as it should've.

Naturally, you looked back only to see a man. A large man at that... in a shiny black rubber suit. You were a little on edge, but you just continued to walk, your ears trying to focus on anything else other than the footsteps.

Your stomach gurgled, your lack of food and water betraying you. You had only drank beer. Loads and loads of beer.. so obviously your stomach was going to be upset. You turned back once more, the man being closer. You picked up your pace, your heels clicking faster as you tried to walk as fast as possible. And to your horror, the footsteps behind you also quickened.

Your drunk mind had practically no filter, so stupidly, you turned back, only being met with a hand over your mouth. The rubber squeaked as he moved, the man's hands going to your waist as he held you. You looked back, ready to scream, but he pushed you back, leading you into an alleyway. Or a walkway.. you weren't too sure.

As hard concrete slammed at your back, you caught your breath, looking up as the man almost blended in with the dark black sky.

"What happened?" You asked, your stupid question making the man laugh. His laughs fell muffled and sharp before his hand went to your neck, the grip on it tight as the other grabbed your hair. He straightened your neck, making you look up at him as your eyes adjusted to the man. You blinked a few times looking up into his dark eyes as he stared back.

"I-" you stared, but you were quickly thrown down to your knees. You yelped, the dirty concrete not serving you too well. It was all too fast for you. You could barely even talk properly. Earlier you sounded like a cartoon character. Slurring your words and tripping quite dramatically. Maybe you shouldn't have drank so much.

The man looked down at you, his fingers tugging at your roots as he made you look up at him, the air zipping between you two as one hand went to the zipper on his crotch. Your eyes watched as he unzipped it, his dick springing out. Your eyes widened, your body beginning to react. You squirmed, but his grip on your hair got tighter and more demanding as he stared down at you, his hips moving forward as he shoved his dick in your face.

You turned your head, trying to look away as his hot tip touched you, almost making you gag. It was disgusting.. you didn't even know this man. This was horrible..

"No!" You closed your eyes trying your best to scoot away, but the concrete scraped your knees, causing you to wince. You cussed under your breath, your hands going to push him back before he tugged your face to his dick, forcing you press up against him. You began to cry, your mascara and eyeliner streaming down your face as you did so. "Don't.." you whined, muffled laughs coming from him. He couldn't talk, but he could do pretty much everything else.

Your hands tried to push, hit, tug.. but with your drunken state and the pain the man was inducing, everything was so hard to do. It was too much energy, and you weren't exactly happy.

He rubbed his hard cock against your cheek, subtle moans coming from him as he stared down at you, his dick twitching at the sight. He loved making pretty girls submit. Making them weak and dumb.

He pulled your mouth to his tip quickly, moving up so your head was against the concrete wall, his hand keeping your mouth open as you cried. Your hands moved up to stop him, but he immediately shut that idea down by slapping you. Hard.

You cried more, tears brimming in your eyes as everything appeared more blurry than before. "D-dont.." you tried to say, but with his hand in your mouth it didn't do much. His thumb wrestled with your tongue as the rubber slicked across it, trying to keep it down. He opened your mouth wider, shoving his dick in your hot, wet pocket.

He let out a satisfied hum, his tip burning against the back of your throat as he thrusted in, a gag coming from you. Your eyes looked up at him, his dick going faster and faster as he used your poor throat. It stung with pain, drool coating his cock as you choked on him. You were incredibly close to throwing up, and once you felt a gag, he pulled out, slapping you as you choked down the vomit.

He left a bad taste in your mouth, and he quickly moved the two of his hands to the back of his head, ripping off the mask as his knee pushed against your chest to keep you there.

He had beautiful locks, and pink plush lips. Before you could even study his face, he ripped you up from the floor, turning you around and pressing your chest against the wall. His lips came close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuckin' slut." He said harshly, his hands flipping your skirt up and kneading your ass. He let out a huff of hot air, swallowing down his desire before giving a hard slap across your ass. You yelped out, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth like earlier. He had reflexes... had he done this before?

He ripped down your panties, his hand guiding his tip. You felt it rub through your cheeks, his hands going down to spread them as he looked at your pussy. "Stay quiet and I'll play nice, sweetie." He said quickly, his head pushing against yours as he moved up. His tip ghosted your entrance, your breath hitched from the head, and he finally thrusted into you, leaving no preparation.

You let out a moan, it mostly being from pain. He shushed you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his hips bucked into your ass, his dick moving perfectly with your pussy. He hit all the right places, and you turned your head back to look at him, his curls sticking to his forehead with sweat. His nose scrunched up as he choked down a groan, moving faster.

His lips connected with yours, forcing you to stay quiet as he used your body. His hand cupped your jaw, the other going to your hip as you moaned out, your mouth opening as he explored your mouth. His tongue slicked against yours, his thrusts harder and faster as you whimpered out, your body beginning to feel weaker.

You being drunk just made the feeling so much more memorable, and finally, with one more thrust, you came all over him. Your eyes clenched closed, you letting out a soft sigh as tate laughed some, leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek before going faster and faster. Your slick made it so much easier, and he took advantage of that, continuing his assault on your poor cunt.

As he continued, soon more whimpers and moans came out of him, his thrusts beginning to go sloppy. They weren't as direct as before, and you opened your mouth, about to tell him not to cum inside. "Dont-" but it was too late. He came, his head resting on your shoulder as he bucked his hips up involuntarily, riding out his orgasm.

"Fuck.." he turned his head, nibbling on your neck as you felt his seed go far inside you. He pulled out finally, replacing his cock with his finger as he stuffed his cum inside, giving you no room to whine. You looked over your shoulder, turning back as you sighed, everything blurry as your stomach caught aflame. You felt so incredibly hot, and he took his finger out, turning your head towards him. He put his finger in your mouth, making you taste his cum, your nose scrunching from the salty taste left on your tongue.

He looked down at your ass, turning your skirt back down, leaving you to deal with your panties. Your legs shook as you looked at your feet, your panties sitting in between them.

"You were begging for it, you should be happy." He said, noticing your tears appearing once again. He zipped up his flap (or whatever it's called), finally beginning his retreat as he took his mask with him.

He left you there as you clung to the wall, your crying growing as you reflected in what happened.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

I'm writing too much non con sorry. I was gonna make the reader have somewhat of a crush on him but I knocked that idea out. Anyway, ty for reading!!!

Taglist: @kaismanwich @tatelangdonsgirll @daylas-life @hyperharlz @kaiju-superstar @howtobesasha @luttic @ima0nahlol

#evan peters #evan peters characters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x y/n #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #tate x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #tate ahs

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aziraphales-library · 5 days

Note

Hello amazing mod team! I was wondering if you know of any fics involving Crowley taking care of an injured/sick/Fallen Aziraphale, or vice versa? The fluffier the better. I also typically don't read AUs. Thank you all so much for what you do here. Much love!

Hi! You can check our #sick fic, #hurt aziraphale, #hurt crowley, and #fallen angel aziraphale tags for more fics like this. Here are more fluffy hurt and sick Aziraphale fics to add...

Unsteady Breaths by Elijahsworld (NR)

Happily unboxing his new collection of books, the thought that anything he would receive could be harmful to his angelic being never crossed his mind. Or Aziraphale falls ill but Crowley's there to comfort him through these rough times.

Made it out of our cages, never made it back home by ethewinter (NR)

"We were a team," said Crowley. "And a damn good one at that. I never... Out of all of the people who could've betrayed me, angel, I never would have thought it would be you. Not in a thousand lifetimes. You want to know why I'm still hurt?" Crowley straightened and looked directly into Aziraphale's eyes. His yellow eyes were filled with tears. "I never would've done this to you. Never. I don't fucking care what you think, we're an us. We've always been an us. You running off to play archangel doesn't make that different." - Aziraphale's promotion to supreme archangel doesn't work out. Crowley's left to pick up the pieces.

so I’ll take care of you (and honey, you’ll take care of me too) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“Angels don’t sneeze,” Crowley began, letting a few seconds of silence fill the atmosphere. “Wait, do they?” “I don’t know, dear. But, not to worry, I’ll be all tickety-boo in no time. It’s just the weather, you see, icy all around,” Aziraphale remarked, his tone a smidge too polite and formal for the situation. “My corporation’s merely responding to the changes-“ He had begun, before another sneeze so rudely punctuated his sentence. The muffled mucus-filled sniffles were loud enough to be transmitted to the other end of the phone, the worry in the demon’s chest rising, pounding on his ribs. “‘m coming over,” Crowley said matter-of-factly, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t somehow sense that both his legs are anxiously bouncing at breakneck speed.

Unwilling to waste miracles on himself, Aziraphale can’t miracle himself better after catching a cold. Luckily, a certain lovesick demon is there to take care of him. A sickening amount of fluff ensues (and many feelings are realised).

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

Eye for an Eye by Greenathena (T)

A year before the Apocalypse, Aziraphale is suddenly struck blind, losing both his corporeal and ethereal vision. To make matters worse, he's just discovered that Heaven may have some new technology to hasten the end of the world.

so grey the face of every mortal by philadelea (T)

"Now, some 6,000 years, several historical rescues, and one half-Apocalypse later, that promise tasted like ash in Crowley’s mouth. " It's been six months since Armaggeddidn't. Aziraphale has been in Hell for the last three weeks. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hurt aziraphale #sick fic #mod d

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adobe-outdesign · 2 months

Note

have you been asked to review the Tapu pokemon yet?

As a whole, I really like the Tapus. It's neat to have one guardian per Alolan island, and the designs themselves are well thought out. I really like how each one has a set of white triangular markings with a darker border, which allows each one of them to be very distinctive with unique designs and palettes while also making sure all three look like they belong together in a group. This is also enhanced by them carrying tiki-inspired masks, with each one being based on a different animal that also influences the creature itself to some degree. Good stuff.

Thematically, the Tapus are also based off of the four main Hawaiian gods (Koko, Lele, Bulu, and Fini seem to be based off of Kūkaʻilimoku, Kāne, Lono, and Kanaloa respectively). I'm obviously not Hawaiian so I don't feel qualified to judge these guys on accuracy, though it seems like Tapu Koko is the most on-point with the feathered look while Tapu Fini is the least, having little to do with the deity it's based off of aside from a vague connection to the ocean.

Regardless, all of these designs are distinct and do a good job standing out from other legendaries, as well as tying back into their region. There was clearly a lot of thought that went into them in terms of both functionality and visual aesthetics.

Tapu Koko is my personal favorite of the bunch. Vaguely based off a rooster (side note: I'm amazed we don't have a rooster 'mon yet. I guess Blaziken counts but it's only a rooster in the vaguest sense of the word), it sports feathers, a beak-like structure on its face, and a mask that it forms a beak with using its pincer-like hands. Really neat! I also like the mohawk becomes the rooster's comb when the mask is closed.

The orange and yellow palette is also nice, as it's very high-contrast and pops well against the black body. My only nitpicks would be that the two pairs of chest markings feel a bit too busy, as do the lines in the yellow part of the eye (though granted, they all have those). Otherwise, this is a very neat design.

I like Tapu Lele because it looks all cute and pretty and then it turns out it's an incredibly cruel nature deity that does not care about the suffering it causes. It and Beautifly should be friends.

Anyway, Tapu Lele is meant to resemble a butterfly head, with the hair curls becoming antennae and a tentacle emerging from the bottom that resembles a proboscis, along with two wing-like structures on the back. I don't think it reads quite as clearly as some of the others, and I do wish the body took after its animal more (the creature itself having no insect-like traits, compared to the other Tapus where you can see the animal influence outside of the masks), but it's still neat.

Tapu Bulu probably resembles its animal the most in terms of body shape, having a bull's signature nose piercing and hooves, as well as horns. Most interesting is the long tail, which not only matches the hooves but becomes the bull's nose ring when the mask closes.

The colors are nice and high-contrast, but I do wish it had been green instead of red. Koko is yellow and orange, Lele is pink and red, and Fini is purple and blue. Having Bulu be red and gold feels too similar to Lele, even if it fits the angry bull idea. It also would've made sense from a typing perspective, as Tapu Bulu is the grass-type of the group (even the horns kind of look like pencils/wood).

Otherwise I don't have any real complaints, outside of the face markings feeling a bit busy, as you have the nose, ring, and three different eye markings. I feel like they could've easily dropped the white eye markings and not lost anything.

And finally, Tapu Fini is probably my least favorite of the group, though it's still a good design. I like the body shape (kind of siren-like, though I don't know if that was intentional) with fin-shaped accents in the hair, on the hands, and on the body.

When it closes its mask it resembles a swordfish of sorts, with the hair strands becoming the side fins and the hair fin slotting into the mask's purple ridge to form a dorsal fin. Something about the fish itself feels a little off though; maybe it's just that it lacks a tail fin, or maybe it just looks a bit too plain compared to the others because it's meant to be viewed more from the side. Still a pretty solid design all around though.

Anyway, overall, I think these guys are great. They're cohesive but distinct, have unique visuals and themes that set them apart from other legendaries, and designs that work from both a visual and mechanical standpoint. Good stuff.

#tapu koko #tapu lele #tapu bulu #tapu fini #pokemon #pokemon reviews

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miracletyrant · 4 months

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Arthur Lester and living for someone else: an essay I dreamt up while I had the flu

First, some clarification: when I say living for someone else, I mean taking them into consideration in your life. It is not about catering unhealthily to them, or enslaving yourself to their whims. living for someone else is the difference between feeling love for someone and acting on it. It's about treating love as an action.

In episode 31, we learn a lot about Arthur's past. While Bella was giving birth, he said to James, "I can't live for someone else!" and he wasn't wrong. He loves Faroe, even if he didn't love Bella, but he didn't truly live for her. Don't get me wrong; he wasn't a neglectful father. He was kind to her and tried to spend time with her. Ultimately, he made few sacrifices for her, but not none.

Once she was gone and Parker had helped him restore his will to live, he found contentment. And this is the most important part; he wasn't unhappy living for himself, having no one worry about where he was or what he was doing, and having no one depend on him. He was fine.

But he wasn't thriving. Guilt and loss aside, he was living the life he would've, had he never gotten Bella pregnant. And yet, despite everything, despite knowing that he prefers a life lived just for himself, Arthur still said that the time he spent with Faroe--for Faroe, so to speak--was the happiest of his life. He didn't allocate much time to that selfless joy, the joy of telling fairy tales to his little girl, of dedicating time to her, but he was happier with her than he would've been without her. Happier carving out a piece of himself and giving it to her, sharing it with her, hollowing out a space in his world for her to be safe and loved in.

But he did cave to himself. He didn't dedicate as much to her as a father should, because he didn't want to live for someone else.

Cut to episode 20. This is a different Arthur than the man who fathered Faroe. This Arthur has lost absolutely everything, except John.

Arthur has made up his mind. He knows he can't beat the King in Yellow, but he also refuses to let him have John. He knows that John doesn't want to return to the King, and he knows John doesn't want to die. But John has no real agency over his fate, as he is trapped within Arthur. John can't fight back, and he can't run away. The only way he can be protected from those terrible fates is if Arthur puts himself aside entirely and thinks only of John.

So he does. He faces the King, knowing that he might die, knowing that he might fail, but completely unwilling to make a call that would doom John. And the King sees that. That's why, during the confrontation, he says to Arthur, "You despise me... and yet you love him."

That line. That beautiful, poignant line, spoken so contemplatively by the bloodthirsty god of madness. He seeks to understand Arthur, to manipulate him, to find his true intention, and that is what he finds. "You love him" means "You act singularly out of love for John, with his best interest at the core of your every decision."

He knows, because of this, that he has lost. So he chooses to take out his anger on Arthur instead.

It would've been easier for Arthur to give up while his bones were being broken. He was helpless to stop the torment, but he knew he had the knife. He could've killed himself once he realized that he was going to be subject to eternal torture, and it would've made sense. But he didn't. In fact, he begged John not to return to the King even while screaming in agony, even knowing that if John left, the pain would end. Because John's fate mattered more to him than his own. So long as he endured, John would live.

It wasn't until he realized that John was leaving, sacrificing everything for him, that he decided to kill himself. If John was doomed regardless, then this way, at least he would be free from the King. And if Arthur's motivation was at all unclear--perhaps he was sacrificing himself because of all the people the King would hurt once fully restored--he clarifies it later, in season 3.

"I died for you. For a fucking voice in my head, that stole my eyesight. I fucking died for that. Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

It does sound insane. But he doesn't even mention the even crazier thing he did; being willing to live for the voice in his head. To live through unfathomable agony and terror of the King's torture, just to protect John. Dying for him was his last resort, because he shares a body with him. Dying for John could only save him from something worse than death.

This means that in order to love John, Arthur has to live for him in every way possible. He has to care for himself in order to care for John. He has to do things he doesn't want to do--like maybe one day sit through a film he can't see--to care for John. Every single experience--good and bad--that he has brings John life and humanity, and every good thing he does shows John how beautiful the world can be. His patience and forgiveness helps John to grow his own sense of compassion.

The core beauty of their relationship lies within this, at least for me. Arthur Lester, a man unable to live for anyone but himself, is put in a position where everything he does has a potent effect on a lost fragment of an eldritch being. And despite what that being is, despite the bloodlust and violence of his entire existence, he slowly becomes someone so full of love and compassion that he can hardly stand to ignore a person in need. Even before growing close with Arthur, he knew compassion from his new desire to grow. He wanted Arthur to spare the wraith in season 1, because he wanted to know that monsters can be saved and redeemed. And he kept growing from there. John shed his first ever tears for an innocent animal. He looked through Arthur's cruel words in season 3 and understood that they were fueled by self-hatred, and he stuck by him and refused to let him drown in his darkest moments. He was willing to risk everything for strangers victimized by a terrible monster. He begged Arthur not to take the stone from Mr. Scratch, because in doing so, someone innocent would have to pay the price.

Of course he isn't perfect (ahem, that whole thing with Oscar), but he has been loved enough to be transformed completely. He has been loved enough to return that love, not only to Arthur, but to people he doesn't know. Because Arthur lived for him.

#sorry this is so long lmao #these thoughts have been churning in my head since i finished the podcast #it's just so beautiful #their relationship is so complex and fascinating #these two are gonna be the death of me #jarthur #privateeyes #john doe #arthur lester #malevolent #malevolent podcast #qpr #kayne #the king in yellow #faroe

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dawnwriterimagines · 8 months

Text

Missing Pieces : Fontaine x f!Reader

Summary: After supposedly returning from a shooting he can't remember, Fontaine's memory seems to be a little jacked as something doesn't feel right. He sits down with Slick Charles, trying to connect the missing pieces in his daily routine, while everyone tries to explain to him that someone's missing...

Warning(s): Violence, Angst, Amnesia, etc.

It was loud, it was close, almost like it was right in front of him.

BANG!

A gun shot rang out.

Fontaine's eyes burst open, he sits up with a startled breath, almost choking on the first gasp he lets out.

Putting a hand against his chest, feeling for the indent of a bullet hole he was sure had gone through him at some point. But there was none, only the raised scars from a few mishaps or scuffles with any dumb motherfucker that used to try him. The ghost of pain was strange, as he shook himself out of his slumber it quickly settled and numbed to nothing. But it wasn't really even a memory, a nightmare?

He'd gotten shot before, never flat out in the chest like he'd felt when he got up. Somehow, he imagined it would've felt differently. But, then again, it was only a nightmare.

Fontaine ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily. The nightmare faded from his mind, he couldn't even remember what it was about, but it had left him shaken.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he seemed to wait for something, looking beside himself to see if anyone were sleeping at his bedside. It was empty, the other side's cover tucked tight.

Brows furrowing at the weird feeling that the morning had already brought for him, Fontaine huffed out a breath and stood, preparing for his day.

He got dressed, throwing on the white sweatshirt and a pair of worn down jeans, as he pulled them on, he caught sight of a silver chain on his dresser, a threaded cross at the end.

Walking over to it, he took it and looked it over, it was unfamiliar to the eye but he could've sworn at some moment he had probably worn it, or he had seen it on somebody else. He pockets it, leaving the room.

Outside, he meets up with his boys, the gang crowding at the corner, waiting on him. On the front yard, Fontaine lays on the lifting bench, putting an ungodly number of rusted plates on the bar before pressing the weight with no assistance.

The two other swole muhfuckas huddle around him hyping him up, throwing insults to goad him to a few more lifts as he nears his next rep, "One more! Weak ass nigga!" Fontaine huffs a puff of air, muscles flexing as he lifts another. "One more!"

"Hey Fontaine!" Junebug yells as he runs over, a Caprisun in his grasp.

Fontaine racks the weight with no problem, sitting up, he looks to the kid as he stops in front of him with a toothy smile, looking around. "Where she at, man?" Junebug asks, suddenly looking disappointed.

Fontaine raised a brow, before standing taking his jacket off the ground, "What you doin' here, Junebug?"

"(Y/n)," the kid says, "Where she at, huh?"

"I ain't got yo' babysitter, lil man." The name sounds familiar for a split second, until it doesn't.

Junebug frowns. "Did you get in a fight again?"

"What the fuck you talkin' bout, Junebug? I dunno no bitch named..." he pauses a minute, catching sight of a car, a 1975 AMC Pacer, a dark yellow color. It was parked up down the block, just behind his Pontiac.

Ignoring Junebug's nonsensical questions, Fontaine turns to Big Moss, who holds a handheld fan to his face, "Yo' nigga, who car is that?" he points to the Pacer.

Big Moss looks over, squinting a bit, "Ain't that yo' honey's, mane?"

"Ma' honey?" Fontaine made a face, clearly the only person lost here. "The fuck you on?"

The rest of the gang around made sour faces, some clearing their throats and turning at the suddenly uncomfortable conversation, attempting to nosily mind their businesses. "Not no mo', I guess," Big Moss says, awkwardly. Clearing his throat, "It's cool mane."

"The fuck--" Fontaine's interrupted.

"You and (y/n) ain't together no mo'?" Junebug looks disheartened. "What you do?"

"Ya'll niggas crazy, I ain't know no bitch named (y/n)--"

"Fonnie..." a gentle whisper in his ear startles him. A woman leans in close to him, he feels her hands drag up the side of his torso and up his chest from behind, hugging him close for just a second...

He turns quick.

His eyes instinctually cut to the yellow Pacer at the corner of the street as he finds no one to blame behind him. "Crazy..." he repeats, maybe about himself.

Fontaine decides to get in his car, driving to the liquor store. He buys a lotto and a routine bottle of Anaconda Malt Liquor. As he unscrews the cap, taking a swig, he hopes for a buzz or a sense clarity that never hits him, maybe it was time for something a little stronger.

He scratches the lotto, and the same outcome taunts him back with a 'You Lose' in bold. Tossing it to the ground, he walks back towards his car, coming up towards Frog, the homeless old man that always had some riddle to say. And he didn't disappoint. "Lovin' n' holdin an' they just takin' n' stealin', ey youngblood?" Frog says, holding up the styrofoam cup as Fontaine pours a good bit of the liquor to his cup.

"Yeah, Frog," Fontaine sighs, used to the nonsensical jabber. "Yeah."

Leaning up against the side of his car, he takes a drink, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the chain he'd found in his bedroom earlier. He brings it up to look closely, in some way he recognized it, but not enough to recognize it as something he'd worn in the past few days or even months.

As he holds the chain, he notices a smear of red along his finger, rubbing his thumb at the stain on the silver, rubbing off the red. He stares at it on his fingers, he recognizes it to be lipstick, a soft red shade.

Even more confused, he huffs out a breath, but he holds the chain tight in his grip, trying to think of any moment in time that he could've possibly been given it, or anyone that could've left it. He hadn't let anyone in his house in a while, let alone his bedroom, the last woman he had slept with had been...fuck when was the last time he'd gotten laid?

For some reason, he was convinced it wasn't as long ago as he thought.

He gets in his car, driving back towards home.

That's when he catches sight of someone. At the end of the street, a black man in a white sweatshirt limps down the road, his chest stained with red. He's on his knees, curling his arms around someone, dragging the person onto their feet, but they're limp in his grip, dead. A woman, jeans wet with blood and knit sweater falling off her shoulders torn and smeared with red. She's pretty, gorgeous even, from what he can see from here.

The man struggles to stand to his feet with her again, his shoulders shake from the effort or from the angry sobs that wracked through him. Fontaine can see that every movement is agony, he watches as the man hacks up a mouthful of blood. He'd been shot too.

As he hacks up a lungful, the man's eyes flicker up to see Fontaine driving past. They look at one another.

And for a moment, Fontaine sees himself. Literally. His hair, his eyes, his clothes even which he was wearing at this current moment. He forgets he's still pressing on the gas when he loses sight of him.

Fontaine stomps on the brake, stopping the car, he looks to the rearview mirror, quick. When did he start breathing so heavy? It had to just be a coincidence, just a trick of light or of his mind. That can't be him.

Interrupting his thoughts, a black van drives into the area, nearly clipping the Pontiac as it swerves around the corner and towards the couple.

"NO, NO, Nooo! NO!" the man even sounds like him..."Get the fuck away from us! Get the fuck off--! No!" he's cut off by the slamming of the car doors, muffling his screams and driving off quick.

All that's left of them is the red stain against the cement.

As he makes it home, trying his best to forget about the strange event, Fontaine pockets the chain he forgot he was still clutching.

He makes a sandwich, cutting it in half, he walks to his mother's door and knocks, "Mama, you hungry?"

She answers. "Nah, I'm good, baby. Josephine had a fish fry last night, I'm still full."

He walks away from the door, covering the plate for later and making another sandwich. He must've blanked out because next thing he knows he's making two new peanut butter sandwiches, cutting the crusts off one of them absently. Slowly stopping, he places the knife down, confused with himself.

He takes one of the sandwiches, sits down on the couch and turns on the TV. As a poorly filmed commercial starts, he swipes his malt liquor off the table and takes a swig. "--Gon getcha summa dis here limited-time-only Hotbox Spicy Chicken! Cause remember, who needs all these vices when you've got all these herbs and spices--" the narrator continues as folks dance after every bite.

A commercial he's seem about a hundred times, before another came on about perm cream.

Fontaine zoned out, chewing silently on his sandwich, wondering why everything seemed so off today. Who was (y/n)? Did he just imagine seeing himself today? Who's fucking chain was this?!

He tosses the chain across the table, it hits a box of pizza that halts its slide to the floor.

That's when he noticed the pizza box at the table, eyes narrowing as he quickly thought of someone. Slick Charles. "Motherfucka'..." he stands and takes his keys off the hook.

---

"You saw me, what?"

"Die, muhfucka!" Slick Charles repeats with an agitated yell. "I saw you and yo honey!"

This is the second time someone mentioned his 'honey'.

"I'm clearly not dead, nigga, where's my money?"

"There are more pressing issues to discuss here, nigga!" Slick Charles backs away from Fontaine, looking around his chest for bullet holes, anything to declare the man, undead. "Look if you don't believe me, we'll get, Yo-yo! She'll know, she done lef' around the time you came in, alrigh'?!"

Fontaine glared at the pimp, before rolling his eyes and exiting the hotel to make his way to his car, Slick Charles following. For some reason, his mind drifted to earlier that morning, seeing the couple, covered in blood and dying on the street.

Finding Yo-Yo about to sell some ass for a $50, they interrupt the transaction, getting the sassy prostitute in the car, clad in a fur coat and yellow boots, she sneers at them both. "Ya'll owe me, 50!"

Fontaine gets to the point, hushing the woman. "I need to ask you somethin'," he begins. "You seen me?" he asks, tentatively, almost in a whisper. Asking meant admitting to some degree that he thought he was actually dead and had come back. In some way, that would explain his very realistic nightmare.

"Not like that, nigga..."

"Nah, I mean...you seen me?" he questioned again, quieter this time, serious.

"Yes, nigga, I saw you," Yo-Yo admits, truthfully. "And wasn't (y/n) witchu? I ain't seen her, she ight?"

Slick Charles leaned back in his seat, remembering seeing the young woman in the car before the shoot out started. "Aw no," he whispered.

Fontaine glanced back at the pimp, confused and angry. "Who the fuck ya'll talkin' bout, man? Who's (y/n)?!" he hits the steering wheel, tired of the day, and the dumb shit that's been getting to him lately. "What bitch ya'll think I'm fuckin' with, huh!"

"Well ain't she give you that?" Yo-Yo pointed to the chain on his neck. The cross he had tossed and decided to take with him, he had just absently put it on, almost out of instinct.

"You know who's this is?" Fontaine held the cross up to her face.

"Uh, yeah, nigga, what's wrong wit you?" she gives him a distasteful look.

"Who?!"

"(y/n)!"

"You--"

Slick Charles slaps down a polaroid photo on the console divider, "So you tryna tell me, you don't remember her?"

Fontaine looks down, choosing to ignore the change in tone, Slick Charles has his pointer finger in the middle of an unfamiliar photo, he picks it up. The car is dead silent now as he holds it up to his face, luckily he had parked under a street lamp, providing him a little light to see.

Fontaine's eyes widen as he sees her fully for the first time. (Y/N).

They're frozen in time in the photo, in a paused state of a love he couldn't remember. She presses a smooth kiss to the side of his face, he wraps an around around her waist, pulling her into his lap, his expression was softer than normal despite a lack of a smile. But he wasn't looking at his lips, but the way he'd leaned into her, held her close, he'd never done that before, always keeping his distance from any actual relationship that he recalled in his life.

So this was (y/n)?

He felt he would've remembered someone like her. Why didn't he?

"Remember 'er now?" Slick Charles asked.

"I'm gon' need you to tell me what exactly you saw last night," Fontaine's eyes flickered to Yo-Yo, he's gratefully for how dark it is, he had a feeling now that he had seen her today, drove past her, let someone take her away. What the hell was going on?

---

There was an elevator that led down under the Glen, this tiny town was somehow apart of an entire experiment, for what? He didn't know.

But, it seemed to involve him. Involve you. And involve all the people of The Glen. And if he wanted to know why he seemed to have died late last night, he needed to find out what exactly was going on.

Luckily, he had some help, although he would've preferred a smarter duo, he was stuck with them.

As Slick Charles held his gold gun up to the pale-skinned scientist with a clean shaven afro, giggling and spasming seemingly uncontrollably, Fontaine made his way around the lab.

Yo-Yo began to mess with a few of the strange sets of chemicals within the lab, taking notice of the lack of experimental subjects: like mice or even rabbits, nothing. She tipped a beaker, blew on the white dust, she supposed was cocaine and swirled a bit of a blue liquid in a test tube.

Fontaine found two surgical tables, blue sheets over each figure that seemed to lay atop the metal slabs. Not a single breath moved through the sheets, nothing to signify either one was alive.

He moved one sheet first, it was you. (Y/N)...

And everything suddenly started flooding back in waves.

"Wake up..." she breathes, tapping his cheek as she yawns against his chest.

"I'm awake..." he responds, tiredly.

"No, you're not," she grumbles, before sitting up a little. The movement coaxes him awake, his arm pulling around her shoulders tighter to get her to lay back down.

"Be quiet," he pulls her down on him, she chuckles, conceding.

He scoffs out a humored hum, turning over her, they drift off for another hour or so, awakening to kiss the other. He's leaning over her, the chain she had given him, swinging in front of her face, hanging off his neck.

Fontaine notices it, taking it off in that moment and placing it on the dresser, "No, hey, that keeps you safe," you protest as he moves to shift between your legs. "Don't take it off, Fonnie."

"Yeah, well right now, it's distractin'," he squeezes your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his right shoulder. "I'll put it on later, if you're so worked up bout it."

"Ok, ohh--k, yeah..." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, letting you take hold of a handful of his locs, your nails running through his scalp in a way that just told him to keep going. "Fon'..." you gasp as he cups the skin of your ass to move down lower, greedily.

After another hour of consuming the presence of one another for the morning, you both move through the day as you usually would. Fontaine would bench press a few reps with guys, you would start making campaign flyers for the protests during the week. He'd leave with Junebug later unbeknownst to you and deal with an amateur dealer that made the dumb decision to sell on his side of the streets. When he comes back, Fontaine and you would head to the store together, he'd get his usual Anaconda Malt Liquor and you'd usually go for a Moscato if not a pack of swedish fish. Pass by Frog for another daily lesson in senile obscurity and pour him a cup.

Heading back home, they'd have breakfast together, sometimes you'd make eggs and bacon, other times Fontaine would make the only thing he really knew how to which were peanut butter sandwiches. You hated the crusts, so he'd always cut them for you. You'd call him soft and he'd sit pause mid-way to let you finish yourself in bitter defiance, to which you'd quickly take back your statement. "Wait, wait, I'm kidding," you laughed. "Come on, finish, you cut them the best! Fonnie!"

"That's all you, baby," he took a bite of his. "All you."

"No, I'm sorry, please, please," you begged, wrapping your arms around him to pull him back to the kitchen. "Come on, Fonnie--"

"How many times I gotta tell you to stop wit' that, Fonnie shi', huh?"

"But I thought you liked it when I called you, Fonnie?" you teased with a smile.

"Fonnie sounds like a bitch, I ain't no bitch."

"You're my bitch though," you cackled.

"Whatchu say?" he turned, surprised at the answer. And you took off running. "Naw, bitch, get your ass back here, whatchu say!"

"Nothing!" You laughed as you ran through the house away from him. "I'm sorry!" you put your hands up as he grabbed at you, the two of you soon enough laughing together.

"Getch your ass back here!"

Later in the day, Fontaine recalls the customer dealings of his business, remembering that Slick Charles still owed him a pay day since last week. Fontaine got to his feet, took his keys, and you accompanied him into the pontiac, tapping the insignia on the hood of your Pacer car parked behind.

Driving off, the two of you enjoyed a moment with each other, you leaned over the console between you both, singing to the song on the radio. "I need a hug...I need a hug..." you nuzzled your face against his shoulder.

"You need to be quiet," he snickered, emphasizing 'Need', glancing over to you as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, and you just kept at it.

He finally parked up by The Royal, a hotel across The Glen, where he knew Slick Charles would be. "Stay here," Fontaine said before leaving the car.

You roll down the window, sticking your head out to wave towards the pimp as your boyfriend forces his way into the hotel room. "Hi, Slick!"

"(Y/n)! Why you ain't tell yo' violent ass nigga to show some goddamn muhfuckin' respect!" he yells mostly towards Fontaine, who glowers at him in return, threatening to punch him right in the grills if he don't keep his mouth shut.

You duck back into the car, choosing to let the two men figure their shit out, instead opening the windscreen, watching as a photo fell out to your lap. A little picture of the two of you, you recalled the day, you'd only been officially together for a few months at the time, but you were happier than ever.

Looking up you take notice of another photo, of Ronnie, you had never met the boy, but you had always wished to, knowing what had happened to the sweet kid, always made your heart clench with tears. You pressed two fingers to your lips and to the still frame of Ronnie, breathing sadly, in some way you felt you knew him, maybe had met him, caught glimpses of him in the street when you were younger.

A beep is heard, startling you to drop the polaroid of you and Fontaine, it slips between the seats and you curse, "Shit, ugh," you glare back at the car that had stopped behind the Pontiac, before driving driving again. "Motherfucker!" You sneered at the driver, who just kept his windows up, music blasting, glass shrouded in smoke.

Fontaine soon returned to the car, pocketing the fraction that Slick Charles had made, not enough to fully pay him back though. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I--" then you saw the same car rolling backwards, coming to a slow park just behind the trunk. But, it was the man walking up to Fontaine's side of the window that really terrified you. "Fon--!"

He turns a little too late, "GET DOWN!" just pulling out his gun when the window shatters, the car being layered with bullets, the young man on the other side frantically emptying the clip. The click of an empty magazine is the only thing left to hear besides the bass drum of the radio of the assaulting vehicle.

The young man stumbles backwards, stuffing the weapon into his shirt and racing into the car for a getaway, as the car speeds off from the scene, Fontaine takes a shuttered breath. Blood spilling from between his lips, his hand achingly coming up to feel the holes that had ripped straight through him.

"(Y/n)..." he heaved out, he turns his head as much as he can, every movement a strain on his failing organs. "(y/n)..." he said again, hoping you'd say anything. "Say somethin'," he huffs out, panicked. Say you're ok. "Say it..." he breathes. "Say it..." he repeats as he struggles to breathe, hoping he'd live a little longer to get some fucking help.

He reaches for you, his fingers inching towards yours, but you were already gone.

And then that's when the van comes around. A few men, white guys in black suits wrapped in plastic, gloved hands and unbothered looks as they swing open the car door. "Woah, he's still alive," Fontaine hears one of them say. "Do we still take him?"

Who the fuck were they?

Obviously they weren't police, or ER, or even some random passerby's.

"Won't last long, so yeah," another says, opening up the opposite door. "Not sure about this one though." He was talking about you, Fontaine was sure.

Fontaine blinked, blacking out a moment before breathing harshly once, as if his heart had stopped in that split second, he was somewhere else now. Suddenly, he had been hauled into the van.

"Guess we'll just have to wipe the next one till we can get a copy going, right?"

"Dunno, we've never had to do that before. Damn, this is going to be a lot of paperwork," the white guy sighs out before turning you in your seat, Fontaine finally gets a good look at you as he lays there trying to keep his eyes open. Your sweater was drenched in your blood, and probably a bit of his, the side of your face wet and broken up from the bullet through your temple. You had died as soon as it happened.

Fontaine felt his heart drop, blood filled his throat and he choked on the feeling, but he wasn't sure if it was from the heartache or the puncture. "...'er go..." he gurgled out, eliciting the attention of the disturbed men around him.

There was a pause. "Was that you or him?"

"Well, it wasn't me..." one of the collectors said.

"Let 'er go, muhfucker," Fontaine managed.

They had begun to drive, going around the corner and away from The Royal motel.

"Shit, he really is still alive," the white man gapped, but he still began to haul you out of the car. "We're not really supposed to talk to y--" then there was a gunshot.

Startling all of them as the man that had begun to unceremoniously strap you down to the metal, fell back and too his knees, silently. A bullet between the eyes. The van swerved in the mens sudden panic.

Fontaine had still had a hand on the handle of his gun all this time, the only issue had been getting the energy to pull the trigger. And he let his hand go around to pull again on the white man that moved to pry the gun from his grip, "No, stop!" the collector had shouted, but the gun went off again, this time right through his hip. "Ahh!"

"Oh, shit! Hey, get up!" picking his co-workers up off the floor, "Get the hell out of here, we'll send another unit!" the only uninjured stranger hauled the others into the van as Fontaine stumbles out of the car taking you with him, trying to get a locked eye on the last of them as they drive off and away from the scene as if they hadn't even been there.

And so, Fontaine sat on the curb for a moment, holding you tight, wondering if anyone else would try to just snatch them off the street again. He watched as the van drove off fast, he wondered why they had bothered to do all of that. To kidnap him off the street, as if they had known exactly who he was, where he would be and that he'd be shot. What did they mean by make a copy later?

Fontaine swayed, wondering how he had even lasted this long. He let his head settle against yours, he wished for the little snore of yours that would usually coax him to sleep. He recalled the first time you had fallen asleep against him, the first time he caught himself falling asleep next to you. Pretty much the first of any time he had let anyone catch him slipping.

And he waited for a single breath to slip from you, to bring him even a sliver of comfort.

But it never came.

Even in the early morning, when he found himself staring into the eyes of...himself? Driving by in the very same car that had been totaled to shit in the parking lot of The Royal motel.

Even when the same black van swept by, turning to haul the two of them up off the street and into the van. They don't let their guard down like the others, and he breathes for the last time in that van, holding tight to your hand, just before they pull you both apart.

- - -

It's not a memory that he can grasp onto, because it's not his to have. Just a copy of moments he's never lived.

And they flood his mind.

Fontaine leans over your dead body that laid on that cold slab of metal, the familiarity becoming knowing, absence of memory becomes an overflow of moments he knew he hadn't lived but he could still hold onto.

As the labs alarms go off, he takes you into his arms, ready to take you out of this horrible place, get you some place warm.

Something the previous version of him, hadn't been able to do. But, he was pulled to do the same as his previous self had tried for you.

"Come on, I got you," he spoke, miserably.

It was like speaking to a lover he had never had. But it was also like losing one he had never said goodbye to.

"Come on, please," Fontaine undid the straps, pulling the plastic sheet laid across your naked flesh. He shivered, you were cold, "I've got you," he stares down at the floor as he holds you in his arms. Memories still flooding his mind, sensations, sounds and feelings only a single version of him had experienced, and it wasn't him.

But he still knew he had loved you.

Slick Charles and Yo-Yo pull him from the lab, the alarm sounding loudly, meaning whoever owned this place would be on their way, forced to leave you on that metal slab, next to the original version of himself.

Fontaine was on that elevator. But, a piece of himself stayed down there, and he'd be back to find it again.

"Believe us now?" Slick Charles spoke the question almost sympathetically.

#fontaine #fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone x reader #fontaine x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #they cloned tyrone fontaine #fontaine x black!f!reader #fontaine x f!reader

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cheesemctoastnuggets · 2 months

Text

"Even if I hate you, you're all I have left.".

Lord!Bloodmoon AU created by @o-i-w-u !!!

TW for mentioned robot gore, cruelty, probable blood mention??? Definitely swearing though, just putting the TW just in case

Eclipse had finished wiping the oil and blood off the ground. There would always be some that tracked in, whenever he came in. Most floors in the desolate, ruined castle had at least a little blood left on them, from whenever Bloodmoon wanted to bring back more humans to torment.

He refused to call Bloodmoon 'Lord'.

Eclipse CREATED Bloodmoon, he shouldn't have to do something like that! And yet there were always at least a few humans who, seeing Bloodmoon with the Star, called them that, hoping it would appease the bloodthirsty animatronic. That only worked if Bloodmoon would be in a good mood.

This....workshop that Eclipse had, hidden in the castle ruins.... you wouldn't even call it that; that would be an insult to actual workshops. It simply had the bare items Eclipse needed for animatronic repair. Not that there were too many left. Most of the other animatronics were either dead, or in hiding. Eclipse wouldn't know where to find them.

Moon was dead. that much he knew. Eclipse himself was present when Bloodmoon had openly let Sun know. Denial was Sun's reaction, initially. Until he found the body. Bloodmoon had had a few decent injuries on him; as much as Eclipse and Moon hated each other, Eclipse knew Moon definitely wouldn't have gone without at least one way of doing something to Bloodmoon.

It was just so...meaningless, as Eclipse looked back on it.

Bloodmoon had the Star, and could heal any of those scratches, dents, any sheets of metal Moon had ripped off or tried to do against Bloodmoon. Likely in an attempt that Bloodmoon wouldn't reach the Star before someone else, at least. Fat chance that worked out, none of the others even knew that Bloodmoon had the star's location, much less the Star itself.

Suddenly, Eclipse could hear a loud crash from the outside, followed by faint metal scratching. He paused, trying to hold in the panic that Bloodmoon finally got bored of him, before slowly walking over to the hidden entry point he had, and opened the peek hole.

He could just make out the faint color of faded yellow, before snapping the door open. It could've been a trap, for all Eclipse knew, some bait Bloodmoon left, but Eclipse just wouldn't, no, couldn't just ignore it even on the chance that it was a trap.

He grabbed the crumpled scrap heap meant to be Sun, and dragged him in. Before, he may have been able to easily pick Sun up, especially when the former daycare attendant was in a state such as this. But Eclipse also would've just left Sun, maybe only interrogated him if Eclipse were still himself, the way he was before Bloodmoon got the Star. Times had rather drastically caused changes for Eclipse.

Eclipse grumbled, shutting the door quickly and locking it. No matter how many locks he had, it never felt like enough. It didn't keep out the sounds, it didn't keep out his loneliness, his fears...it wouldn't even keep Bloodmoon out if one day, the homicidal duo decided it was done with Sun and Eclipse.

"Fucking idiot, Sun, you should know better", Eclipse practically growled, a tiny bit of steam puffed out of the back of his head, as he started to hook Sun up to one of the very few machines Eclipse had made that Bloodmoon didn't destroy. Sun needed power, a lot and fast, given the state he was in.

There were large dents in Sun, especially on the side h e had landed on when he had fallen. Or did Bloodmoon throw him down? Eclipse and Sun both knew that hidden was a funny word to use for this run-down hideaway Eclipse had the audacity to call a workshop was something Bloodmoon knew about. It's just the bloodthirsty maniacs that inhabited that body didn't want Sun or Eclipse dead. Not yet, at least. The day was coming, Eclipse was sure of it.

There were also scratches all over Sun's body. The faceplates were horribly damaged with it looking like it was about to cave in on itself, likely having been shoved down to the ground. There were deep slashes on Sun, and oil leaked out of him. One of his lower feet were twisted, and some of the fingers Sun's model had were shattered.

Bloodmoon was leaving more of a mark every time he decided to toy with Sun or Eclipse. Eclipse himself was barely lucid half the time, with Sun having to plug him in, so Eclipse could fix himself. He'd have to teach Sun something, in case just charging Eclipse wasn't enough. In case Eclipse ended up like this.

A funny thing, this 'alliance' was. Shaky, and they hated it as well as each other. But neither dared to leave or betrayed the other. They couldn't. They were all they had left. In a span of months, Sun had gone from one of Eclipse's enemies and his favorite to torment to the only thing Eclipse had left.

As much as they hated each other, and had tried to kill each other, many times over.....neither could beat to hurt each other, because they couldn't bear it.

The realization of how stupid and yet so....nice the thought caused Eclipse to pause, but he shook his head. He couldn't waste any time, he needed to repair Sun.

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xwritingdixonx · 1 year

Text

Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 1 |

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series masterlist

Summary: Daryl struggles to call Alexandria his new home, a bitterness lying in his heart of his late wife.

Warnings: language, slight mentions of a panic attack, mentions of grief / loss

Word Count: approx. 3.3k

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The cherry wood coffee table was littered with a messy stack of UNO cards, the last card being a bright yellow, reading the number 7. Carl paused for a second looking at the cards in his hand that he held before putting down a green 7. "No fair" Tara retorted reaching to grab a card. "I'm winning" Carl teased wearing a shit eating grin, showing off the two cards left in his hand.

Aaron had stopped by a little bit ago dropping off a deck of cards, a puzzle, and a pack of UNO cards that looked like they’d never touched a speck of dust. Carl and Noah were quick to choose UNO. Tara looking just as excited to play the game, convincing Rosita to also join.

It was only the second night in Alexandria but Rick couldn't help but smile for just a second, seeing his son playing games, laughing, making jokes. Had he not still been so on edge and his walls so built up, it could've felt normal, comfortable. The rest of the group sat around the same living room, some comfortably lounging on their sleeping bags and pillows, others on the couch, making jokes about who they were rooting for.

"You know, me and my friends used to do this"

Tara began, "we'd uh-" Tara smiled and paused for a second "have game nights, order a pizza, just talk. Like people." Tara chuckled but there was a hint of sadness to it. "Oh god i miss pizza!" Rosita joined in, attempting to tear Tara away from the sadness.

"I’d come home smelling like it every. day. Makes me sick just thinking about it" Glenn's face lit up with a smile.

Soon almost everyone in the room was sharing things they missed about the old world, things that would most likely never exist again or would be extremely difficult to achieve now.

Daryl however was perched up by the window, the cool night air flowing in once in awhile. Daryl was trying to figure out just how cold the breeze was, the colder it was, the closer Fall was, then after Fall came Winter. Out on the road Winter meant trouble, it was the hardest season to survive in the wild. But that wasn't a worry now. So Daryl didn't know why he was still worrying.

"Daryl"

Glenn's voice broke him from his thoughts, snapping his head around to look at him. "Hm?"

"What do you miss?" Glenn looked at him with pure intentions just wanting to know a bit more about the man, as did everyone else. Daryl was so closed off. Some days it felt as if he wasn't even alive before the outbreak, it was like the world ended and poof, Daryl Dixon appeared, ready to take it on. Everyone's eyes seemed to be on him now, anticipating a response. Which, to no surprise, Daryl didn't particularly like. Daryl scoffed and turned his attention back to the window, resting his head on his fist "Nothin'".

Daryl heard Glenn quietly apologize before continuing the conversation with someone else. Once again, Daryl retracted back and away from connection, sheltering himself like a turtle in a shell.

What do you miss? Daryl knew the answer, it was on the tip of his tongue. He just couldn't bare say it, couldn't let himself slip into that hole. You were a memory he had pushed so far back in his mind, it was as if you never existed in the first place. That's how he survived, forgetting you. If not, he would've fallen in that hole of depression and grief a long time ago. So instead of that, he built up walls. Built a wall of brick. Then built a wall of steel in front of that one and he allowed himself to hide behind those walls, angry and alone.

It just took one thought of you to completely blow a hole straight through those walls. Every single thing that the group listed made him think of you. Didn't matter what it was.

Tara bringing up pizza made him think about your favorite pizza spot that had $1 slices. He still remembers the day he watched you down 4 slices after a long Saturday night shift at the bar.

He thought about you when Rosita talked about missing makeup and feeling pretty. You were the prettiest thing Daryl had ever seen especially when you got all dolled up. He remembered your signature lip colors, remembered the brand, the name of them, remembered how pretty they looked on you.

"i don't get it" Daryl heard your distant laughter from the bathroom down the hall. You came walking throw the door, clipping your silver chain bracelet around your wrist. "What don't you get?" Daryl looked at the lip product in his hand, encased in silver packaging "the hell's it called black honey? ain't even black"

You shook your head at Daryl and snatched the product from his hand, taking a seat on his lap. Daryl happily wrapped his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder. "Because it's-" you let out a sigh and took the cap off glancing at the dark plum tinted lip product. "Jesus i don't know D." You put the cap back on with a click, glancing at him through some of your bangs that had fallen in your eyes. " Before i forget" You left Daryl's grasp and made your way to your wooden vanity, "On your way home from the shop," You grabbed 2 small black tubes from the surface and tossed them over to Daryl. "Please please pick up those exact same shades from the store" Daryl recognized what they were immediately, flipping them around to see the name on the bottom. "Rum raisin and black cherry?" You hummed to him in response, "from Revlon?" you hummed an agreeing response again. "Good job handsome"

Daryl remembered everything that made you so uniquely you. Cherry perfume, tattoos, the silver jewelry you wore every single day. Those damn lipsticks, he never forget those ridiculous names. Your hair, god your hair. You had the most gorgeous head of hair, so full and thick. And that smile. When you smiled, your whole face smiled. You got complimented almost every single day on your appearance, not even just from Daryl, from strangers who saw just how gorgeous you were.

His chest tighten and ached, as if his heart was physically hurting. Hands clasping into fists to stop them from shaking. And his mind, spiraling. He could feel the lump in his throat form, the lump of tears, sobs. He cleared his throat and abruptly got up from his perch, racing to the front door. He couldn't stand to be in that room any longer, he felt like he was suffocating.

He sat himself down at the top of the stoop to the house and shakily tried to light a cigarette to forget about his racing mind, taking a long drag. Sitting in fresh air seemed to immediately calm him but the sadness still remained.

Daryl didn't look to see who sat beside him but he heard the creek of the wood panels and felt the presence. "What's going on?" Ricks words were low, as if he was asking him in a whisper. Daryl blew the last bit of smoke from his mouth and and flicked the cigarette away, that's when Daryl broke. The emotions he was trying so hard to push down just over poured at the question. Quiet sobs broke past Daryl's lips, hanging his head low in shame at the vulnerable state he was in.

Rick put a hand on his back to show he was there, giving him comfort through his presence. Rick didn't know what was making Daryl break but he knew he had to be there for his brother, allowing him feel whatever he needed to feel.

"I miss 'er"

Rick wasn't exactly sure what to say, he just nodded. Not once had Daryl ever brought up someone, especially not a woman. "Wanna talk bout' her?"

Daryl thought for a second, he had never been asked to talk about you. He knew he could, could talk about you till the sun rose in the East and set again in the West. But all he could say was "i'on know". He looked at Rick his eyes still glassy with tears.

Rick nodded at him again and gave him a reassuring smile.

Silence settled over the 2 men but it was comfortable, a calmness the night air provided. Daryl had calmed down, feeling slightly embarrassed at the sudden outburst of emotions. Thinking of what the rest of the group members might be thinking of him now.

Rick was lost in thought, it had just been a tiny detail but it opened up so much about Daryl as a person. He had someone, someone he cared for and they obviously weren't here. It explained some of Daryl's intense behavior at times, explained the way his anger led him, and his passion for saving people.

"What was her name?" Rick was testing the waters, seeing if there were anymore details he could get out about this now mystery woman. She could've been his girlfriend, his best friend, hell could've been his goddamn sister. The way the corner of Daryl's mouth almost turned into a smile told Rick that the waters were warm. "Y/n"

The next bit was what set Rick back, definitely not on the list of could've's.

"My uh...my wife."

Memories and nightmares had become a blur to you. At this point, they were practically under the same category. Both equally as haunting. Both equally creating a shallow feeling in your chest. Both keeping you up at night. Just like it had been tonight, the events of the previous day still haunting you. You never thought you were exactly a good person but you could at least try to justify your actions. Racking your brain for hours and nothing. Not one excuse, not one good reason for why you pulled the trigger and why so quickly? You opened your eyes, trying to not allow yourself to fall into that hole any deeper.

You had been in and out of sleep the entire night. Hearing the crickets and lightning bugs turn into early chirp of birds in the early morning. Most of the night you'd spent laid your side watching the fire from the previous night turn from orange glowing embers to nothing but black ash and coal. The only thing exciting you at the moment was getting back to your kitchen in Alexandria.

To be able to cook whatever you wanted and not having to survive off of canned goods, beef jerky, and protein bars. You had promised everyone when you all made it back home you'd cook up a nice big dinner and you'd all sit around the table like how it used to be. It was the longest the group had been away from Alexandria since arriving.

The sun hadn't quite risen yet but it would soon, the sky becoming a light blue- gray color. That's when you called it quits with attempting to catch anymore sleep, you wouldn't and you knew that. Everyone else would be up soon anyway and you'd be hitting the road again. Alexandria was only few more hours out but after what happened, everyone needed to rest. The group could've easily made it there late at night but decided it was okay to make it there by early afternoon today. You let out a deep sigh and sat yourself up, stretching out your arms and back.

You spotted Tommy who was in the same spot as he was the night before, sat up on the tailgate of one of the trucks from his turn on night watch. You slipped your leather steel toe boots on and made your way to him, deciding to give the both of you some company. "Heard ya comin'" Tommy's southern drawl never failed to amaze you, he didn't look like he'd sound like that but he sure did. When people met Tommy for the first time, the faces they'd pull were comedic. Especially the people of Alexandria.

You let out a scoff as you made your way up onto the road that was a few feet away from where you had set up camp for the night.

“Heard ya all night actually" You hopped up on the truck, taking your place next to Tommy and comfortably resting your elbows on your knees. "Was it bad?" You asked looking at him slightly embarrassed. Tommy knew you struggled with sleeping, he had been there to deal with most of it.

Since being in Alexandria it wasn't as bad as when you were on the road, almost like your body knew it wasn't in your safe comfy bed anymore. Tommy looked at you and gave you a soft smile and shook his head. "You weren't shaking or breathing heavy or doing that teeth grinding shit, just heard ya tossin' and turnin' all night"

You were listening to Tommy but watching the point in the sky where the sun was going to be peeking up at any second now. "Hey" Tommy nudged your arm with the back of his hand, pulling you away from zoning out and thinking too much. You averted your gaze to Tommy, "wasn't your fault". You scoffed a laugh and looked away, your eyes wondered to where everyone else still lay asleep in their sleeping bags. Specifically your eldest brother.

"Tell that to Eddie"

You and Eddie had been going at it over the past few months. You weren't exactly sure why and how it started but at this point, you didn't make it through a day without some sort of dispute or sarcastic remarks.

You heard Tommy sigh and put down the sniper rifle he had been holding.

“We got a lot of good stuff. Especially with winter coming. I mean shit, look at this." Tommy was trying to change the subject, make it seem more positive. You sat up and looked over your shoulder. The trucks bed behind you was piled high with crates and boxes, some bigger stuff just lying around. Like a Kitchen- Aid mixer, which you already called dibs on. The other truck that was parked next to this one was the exact same way.

None of you expected the run to go this well. You had found weapons, food, clothes, kitchen appliances, medicine, books, and so much more. There was so much that you actually had to leave some stuff behind. Hidden. Of course. But you still slipped in a few things for Jace and Luke. "We're gonna have to come back for the rest soon" You commented, receiving a nod of agreement from Tommy. "We got the whole route mapped out right?"

"Yes ma'am"

"Good" You and Tommy made eye contact and smiled at each other. The sound of shuffling made you both break contact, looking back to see the other 3 waking up and beginning to pack up. Nellie caught your eye and gave you a wave and a sleepy smile to say Goodmorning, you returning one. You made eye contact with Eddie who, in return, shot you a stone face glare.

Once everyone had packed up, it was time to hit the road. You drove one truck with Nellie in the passenger seat. Tommy drove the other, with Eddie and Henry squeezed in the front. The sun was at its peek in the sky when the gates of Alexandria came into view. You beeped the car horn twice giving whoever was on watch the signal to open up the gates. The 2 trucks came to a rolling stop safely inside the walls of Alexandria. "Home sweet home" You remarked, taking the keys out of the ignition.

The closing of the trucks doors rang in your ears as everyone stepped foot on the concrete. You saw Deanna making her way down the road to the group with a blissful smile on her face and pep in her step. "Wonder what she did now" Henry sarcastically remarked, quickly going to the bed of the truck to help begin unloading, Eddie right behind him.

"Thank goodness!" She planted her hands on her hips, taking stand in front of you, "you should've been back last night did something happen?"

The sun was glaring directly in your eyes so you tried your best to smile at her while also shielding your face from it. "No, we just got tired so we set up camp a few miles out" You did your best to reassure her, Deanna worried about your family probably more than she worried about her own. Alexandria relied on your group. And she relied on you.

"The run went amazing Deanna" Nellie joined putting a reassuring hand on Deanna's arm. "Well I can tell!" She threw her hands up gesturing to the full trucks behind you, "I mean look at this, this is more than we expected" The smile that beamed on her face showed that she truly was in a joyful mood. But there was something else there, a slight hesitation in her eyes. There was something she wasn't saying.

"Dad!"

Before you could begin to question Deanna, Luke's sweet voice rang through out the air. Luke was jogging towards Tommy with a excited look on his face. Tommy's face lit up at the sight of his son, his eyes widening and a smile forming. Jace and Cecilia weren't far behind him also coming to give everyone a welcome and looking equally as ecstatic.

A sense of relief washed over you, all your worries and racing thoughts vanishing in that moment. Cecilia welcomed you and Nellie into a tight embrace, wrapping one arm around either of you. "I'm so glad you're okay" She planted a kiss on both you and Nellie's cheeks, earning a laugh from both of you.

Oh, Cecilia. Sweet sweet Cecilia with her dark brown curly hair, big emerald eyes, and dimples. She had been the one to offer to stay with Jace and Luke while the rest of you were away, she didn't like being on the road and fighting. Not that she couldn't do it because she could, you'd seen her. She just chose not to.

"We got these for you, we went over the walls...with Cecilia. I hope that was alright" Luke timidly handed you a bunch of wildflowers tied together by grass. "Ah haha! These look like the perfect ones" Your voice sweet and smooth giving Luke a wide smile, reassuring him that you weren't upset with them.

Luke was shy and stuttered when he'd talk but he was also the kindest and softest spoken person you knew. His brown curly hair and dimples in his pale cheeks added to his soft composure. Jace, on the other hand, was older, taller, and had lost most of his baby face. He still sported the signature curly brown hair. "Come here, sweet boys" It was your turn to embrace them both in a warm hug.

Neither of them were quite as tall as you yet but Jace seemed to be getting there. Most days it seemed like you were eye level with him.

"Did you get your father some?" Glancing over at Tommy, he held up his bunch of flowers. His were shades of blues, greens, and whites. While the bunch Nellie and you were given we're shades of white, purple, and yellow.

"Boys"

You had forgotten Deanna was there, getting too wrapped up in your conversation.

"Why don't you help unload the trucks? I’ll go grab you guys notepads so you can help" Deanna meant well, she always did but you and Tommy expressed that you didn't want Jace or Luke in any of the dirty work the rest of the group did. They're children, they deserved to be children. They had already been through enough. But they still had responsibilities around Alexandria and training. You looked at Tommy for approval who gave you a nod. "Walk with me Y/n"

So you did. Walking side by side. Some days you felt like you towered over Deanna because of her small height. If someone saw you walking together they would think you were in charge, not her.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?"

"We brought in a group" She didn't miss a beat, as if she was waiting for you to begin questioning her.

"What?" You stopped dead in your tracks at the bottom of the steps to the pantry, she had already made it to the top of the steps with her foot in the door when she turned around and smiled at you. "Yeah a group of 15" She disappeared into the pantry "Of what ?!" You were hot on her tail, stomping your way up the stairs and swinging open the door but you still muttered a polite hello to Olivia as you passed her.

Deanna sighed and turned to face you. "This is their third day here, Aaron tracked them for a week to make sure they could be trusted" She tried to reassure you but it wasn't working. That was a big group. Bigger than your group. "Deanna that's a lot of people, you don't know them."

She ignored you, turning her attention to a stack of memo books. The memo books were used to count and write down everything that was brought into Alexandria from trips. Everything was documented and accounted for so if anything was stolen or taken out, it would be known. She picked up a black one and blue one, along with 2 black pens.

"We need the man power Y/n. I appreciate everything your family has done for Alexandria but its too much and you know that. The entire group was gone for 2 weeks, what if something had happened? No one was here to protect Alexandria. You need the weight off your shoulders and I need it off mine."

You knew deep down she was right. Your group held all the responsibility in Alexandria, they relied on you. Even though most of them hated you, the ones that listened to all the gossip at least. Deanna could see the mixture of doubt and worry on your features, the way your eyebrows crinkled and your lips turned to a frown. "Go home, get cleaned up, i'll be waiting at mine and we can talk more, alright?"

"Alright."

#daryl x you #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n

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cattimeswithjellie · 5 months

Text

After watching more POVs, I can't help but wonder, does Scar think about what might have happened if he hadn't given the skull back?

Scar managed to get one of the wither skulls away from Grian for just a moment before Grian summoned the wither, but he gave it back when Grian threatened to kill him over it. We know for a fact that Grian's threats of murder are real, even on green, but Scar didn't _have_ to give it back. Keep Inventory is on, so even death-by-Grian wouldn't have gotten the skull away from him, it would've given Scar and the skull an escape to the other side of the map (and likely gotten Grian another penalty in next session.) There would've been time to escape, and then the session would've ended, and Grian would've dropped to yellow from the task fail.

Without the wither spawning, would the warden have been nearly so dangerous? Would Jimmy and Mumbo still have permadied? Half the server would certainly be in a far more intact state than it is now. Grian's still yellow after all that fuss and bother, and Etho never dropped low enough to risk falling out of green. At the end of the day, all that death and destruction basically netted Grian and Etho some items.

Does Scar wonder if he made the right choice? Or was it ever really a choice, when it's so deeply ingrained in him to go along with Grian's plans? Or was that whole moment just Chaos Scar waking up and scenting mayhem in the air? Whatever it was, I think it'll be interesting when his servermates, especially Joel and Martyn, realize that Scar could've stopped everything but chose not to.

#secret life spoilers #goodtimeswithscar #grian

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pigeonwit · 8 months

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ok but like jack who loveeeess when hes under the weight of something, he sleeps with like four hundred stuffed animals weighted blankets are his jam, etc etc, and then davey comes along and just flat out sleeps on top of him 24/7. its a win for both of them. (sorry if this isn’t coherent im literally asleep)

(sneep i dont know if you're referencing the prompts list at all or if it was just deeply important to you that i know this but i'm writing about it anyways)

It's hard for Jack to keep his feet on the ground sometimes.

He can't quite put it into words. He's not really a words guy. It took him about a year and a half post-American-public-school-system to realize that he was actually smart enough to read books, let alone echo them. Colours, that's where Jack's mind lives. A big swirling sea of shapes and colours. Sometimes it's calm; the gentle blue strokes of a calm, well-rested morning; the occasional pops and starbursts of the New York streets - a baby babbling at their parents, a dog yipping excitedly, a song that's been stuck in Jack's head drifting out of the cracked window of a passing car - all painted in pretty pinks and bright, sunny yellows. He's nowhere near whimsical or delusional enough for the happy-go-lucky "where dreams are made of" view of NYC, the one that's been washed over in watery-pink with Gershwin plunking in the background - but he's not nihilistic enough to pretend it's nothing more than a tar-pit. There's plenty to love, to be inspired over, to leave happy little brushstrokes on his skin.

But sometimes - sometimes - he gets too swept up in it. All the movement, all the noise, all of it, it picks him up by the scruff and throws him, spins him around and kicks him right between the ribs, until he's drifting listlessly along the sidewalk like a scrap of paper, small and sensitive, marked by every fume of exhaust and drop of gutter-water.

It's the difference between being painted and being stained. That's the only way Jack can describe it. Paint, colours, it has a purpose to it. It presses into his skin and keeps him grounded to reality. A stain is just... Nothing. A tear, a black hole of graphite in his chest, sucking up all his being until there's nothing left.

He needs solidity, when he gets like this. He needs to be held in place until all that old, wasted paper is rubbed away, and he can grow into himself again, fresh and newly remade.

It starts with a pillow. His first night at Medda's - she gave him two instead of just one. He'd no idea what to do with it. He only needed one or else his head felt too high, and he didn't want to just chuck it on the floor or stuff it in his closet, Miss Medda might think he was rude, and he liked Miss Medda, he didn't want her to think he was a bad kid, she might get angry, might give him back... And then he was panting, trembling with every inch, tears stinging at his eyes as he tried to press his nails into his palm, hold himself together, but nothing was working, nothing was firm enough-

It was humiliating - as humiliating as everything else is for an eleven year old, but still, humiliating - to go to sleep that night, clutching a pillow to his chest as he squeezed with all his little might. But it pressed his lungs into the mattress, forced the air in and out, and the foam held tight against his sharp, scrabbling hands, not breaking, not pushing him away... It was just enough.

He almost would've been content with just that, hugging a pillow every now and then - but Medda and Siôn had this whole thing about 'making Jack understand his worth as a person', the nerve, and suddenly he was being given all he needed and more. A plushie, then two, then five. A throw pillow with Val Kilmer's face on it, because Siôn ("Just fucking call me Crutchie, dude, I won't break-") was just as much a cretin when he was a teenager than he is now. A weighted blanket for his birthday that redefined Jack's understanding of the word comfort.

And that could've been enough. It all could've been enough. Fuck, just a hug every couple of days would've been enough. It was certainly more than he'd earned.

He'd offhandedly said something along those lines to Davey - or "Library Guy" as he'd been referred to at the time, since Jack had only really met him three times in two weeks - who had calmly raised a finger, taken a long swig of his coffee, slammed his travel mug (reusable, of course, because Davey is the world's most irritatingly perfect saint) on his desk and given Jack a seventeen minute speech about humanity's relationship with validation through the lens of a capitalistic society - and all of a sudden, Jack wanted everything. Coffee. Dinner. Pet-names, hand-holding, lazy Sundays, teasing each other when they woke up and talking about bullshit until they fell asleep. And Davey gave him all of it without a second glance.

Jack was hesitant to ask, at first. They'd fallen asleep on the couch - they were supposed to be studying, but Davey had found out Jack had never watched any of the Lord of The Rings movies and had spent the entire evening pausing every five minutes to eagerly share his Silmarillion trivia (Jack still hasn't gotten him to admit it yet, but he's pretty sure he can pinpoint Davey falling in love with him to the moment Jack asked why Viggo Mortensen kicking a helmet was so funny to him) - and they'd inevitably fallen asleep on top of each other, with Jack flat on his back and Davey splayed over him like the world's sweetest, sleepiest octopus.

("You really know how to make a guy feel hot, y'know that?"

"Bold of you to assume octopuses are not hot. Tentacle porn exists for a reason, Dave."

"See, I want to be mad at you for bringing up tentacle porn at brunch, but I'm more offended that you called them octopuses and not octopi.")

It was nice, having Davey over him - which, yes, got him some eyebrow waggles when he first admitted it, but it really wasn't like that. It was the weight of it, the reassurance of Davey's warmth encompassing his own, knowing that Davey was here, and he was here, pressed down firmly to the ground and not going anywhere. The sensation of it - the firmness on his chest that makes him feel every breath and every beat of his pulse, that tells him he's here and he's fine - it's like his whole brain's been washed clean.

"Pressure stimming," is the word Davey uses about two months later, a short while after Jack had finally realized that they were actually, exclusively, undeniably boyfriends and not just 'friends who are kind of maybe dating if Davey wants that maybe'. He'd walked into his bedroom in his and Crutchie's apartment to find Davey already there, lying face down on the bed - and Jack might've left it be, because he's had plenty of days where he just needs to lie face-down for a whole hour, but Davey telling him that he physically couldn't get off the bed was the thing that sent him panicking.

"It's not a big deal..." Davey's forefinger flicks up-and-down, up-and-down against one of Jack's many pillows as he speaks, the way he does when he has just slightly too much nervous energy. "It's just something I need sometimes. The way my energy is, it's like everything I do starts weighing down on me - and sometimes I can just let that weight off every now and then, and I'm fine - but sometimes I just... Need something. To support me."

Jack nods slowly, thinking of pillows and plushies and weighted blankets, and hovers his hand over the small of Davey's back.

"You need something, like... On top?" He cringes, because there's no way for that to not sound like an innuendo, but Davey only snorts into the comforter and shakes his head against the soft fabric.

"You're perfect," he smiles, so earnest that it makes Jack's chest squeeze, "but - no. I don't really like that. Feels like I'm being restrained."

Jack frowns, adds that to the little drawer in his brain marked Davey - a drawer that is becoming so cluttered and full of tiny details and special memories that it's almost overflowing - and bites his lip.

"I could, um..." Slowly, like Jack might spook him, he lowers himself onto the the bed next to him, raising his brows in question. "If you want?"

Davey stares at him for a moment - and then it's as if all the tension in his body just bleeds out of him, as he makes wanton little grabby-hands in Jack's direction. Jack laughs quietly, grabs him gently by the shoulders and pulls, rolling them until he's flat on his back and Davey's spreadeagled on top of him - and they both sigh from somewhere deep in their bones as they lean and are leaned upon, pressing and being pressed against each other, two solid weights supporting each other in place.

"I like this," Jack murmurs into Davey's hair as they rest. Davey makes a quiet chuffing sound into his clavicle and wriggles slightly, like a cat kneading a pillow, pressing them both impossibly closer as he settles.

"Oh, yeah?" He says quietly. "You like having a big octopus on top of you?"

"My exact words were sweetest and sleepiest octopus." Jack teases, tugging lightly on one of Davey's curls. "C'mon, English Major, those're some important words, there."

"You're so weird," Davey mumbles, but Jack can feel his smile pressing through his shirt, all the way to his skin, through the muscle, until it prints like ink on his breastbone. It holds him there, keeps him perfectly still and secure - and Jack breathes like he's tasting the air for the first time.

"I love you," he says quietly, because it's the only way he can even think to put what he's feeling into words. Davey would know better than him on that. He could write sonnets about this, pages and pages of prose about how it feels just to hold someone - but Jack's not a words guy. Give him a few hours with a canvas, and maybe he can get down a fraction of what he's feeling now, the barest impression of the thousands upon thousands of colours dancing inside his head like grass in the wind. But for now, he'll just say "I love you", and hope that it's enough.

He can feel Davey's throat flex against his sternum, can feel the way his body tenses, then ebbs, like the pull of the tide.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

It's so much more than enough.

#this got SO fucking sappy towards the end #but yknow. love is stored in the stimming!#i have a few more asks queued up but they'll have to wait until after tomorrow cause. work.#alas we are all victims of capitalism #newsies #uksies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #pigeon scribbles #sneepsnoopboopideeboop

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mooonjin · 2 years

Text

The Past Behind Him

Notes: after rewatching season seven of the clone wars, echo being rescused from skako gave me this idea TT

Pairing: Echo x f!reader

Summary: Echo wasn't fond of the idea of a medic being assigned to Clone Force 99. Sooner or later, your past's are dug up during a not so nice situation.

Warnings/Tags: one or two insults, minor yelling (if you squint), mentions of blood/injuries, one(?) use of Y/N, mentions of tending to wounds — tell me if I've missed anything!

Part Two >

"Separatist?" Echo snapped, his fist landing on the transmission pad, shutting of the holo-profile. It certainly gave Tech a quite a fright. As soon as 'Separatist' left Tech's mouth, it was an immediate no. There was no way Clone Force 99 will be assigned an ex-separatist. How could've any of the Batchers completely disregard that?

Echo's past was rarely spoken about. They all heard he supposedly died at the Citadel in an attempt to rescue General Piell and Admiral Tarkin. Although it he was announced deceased on the battlefield, it turns out he wasn't. He was turned into a machine, a device, another pawn for the Separatist.

"Technically a former separatist. It appears she's no longer—"

"—I don't care whether she was or wasn't." Echo interrupted, having no care in what his brother had to say. Tech's mouth immediately shut tight, not wanting to rile up the ARC trooper who clearly had a problem with it.

The two clones were about to have a full on argument if Hunter didn't dismiss them to their own bunks. Tech rolled his eyes at how misunderstanding Echo could be.

Faint noises of Kamino waters gurgled outside their quarters. Admittedly, it was nice having some peace time on this planet. Usually, they would've been called up to Nala Se or to the training facility.

The productive silence was broken when a knock came from the door and shortly after, it opened up. Two clones in red coloured armor stood tall at attention. The Batcher's left their cots to stand in a uniform line at attention as well.

"At ease." The commander said with his modulated voice. The two troopers then left the entrance, leaving the clones inside more confused than ever.

You then came into view, replacing the guards' positions as you held a clipboard to your chest, your white Kamino-themed outfit reflecting the bright lights that certainly gained the squads attention.

"Hello," you waved at them, their eyes squinting like their lives depended on it, "Are you uh..." you quickly flipped a page against your clipboard to double-check who you were speaking to, "Clone Force 99?"

You assumed the one that did all the speaking was the individual wearing a bandana. He was fairly tall compared to you but slightly shorter than his brothers. Nonetheless, his eyes were judge-y. He scanned your figure silently.

"I'll take that as a no," your hand hovered over the door panel before he spoke up.

"Yes, this is Clone Force 99," you were relieved you didn't walk into the wrong barrack then, "and who are you?" Hunter backed away from you to give you some space noticing how your shoulders tensed up at his voice.

You tucked your red pen in your breast pocket before straightening out your uniform, "The medic personnel for your unit." you smiled, holding out your hand to shake his.

Hunter grinned slightly, looking back at his brothers who were sort of trying to welcome you. He shook your hand and you could swear it felt heavier than the shipment containers on Coruscant. His grip was firm and his shake almost made you stumble.

"Welcome then, the names Hunter," he turned around to the others who have dispatched to their bunks once again.

"That's Wrecker," he pointed at the big guy on the couch who was snuggled up with a plush toy.

"Crosshair," he gestured to the tall, white haired clone with a crosshair tattoo on his right eye. You presumed that's because of his name.

"Tech," his hand lay flat, palm to the ceiling like he was presenting the one with yellow goggles in front of a series of mechanical items. He seemed intelligent.

"And Echo," the only one who didn't make eye contact with you.

A small smile grew on your lips as you observed their barracks. It was... messy but it seemed cozy to them. It also kind of stunk, but you brushed it off considering the smell would be the least of your concern.

You pulled out a small, red comm link, and a transmission disk. You handed them both to Hunter who's eyebrows furrowed at the... gift?

"If you need any assistance, the comm link is to call me over if you're not in your barracks," you pushed a button, showing Hunter how it worked. Hunter gazed at you as he caught the sight of how you triggered the comm link; similar to how a seppie would, "and the transmission disk is for any display of injuries or further concern that needs me to look at anything you're not sure how to describe."

"Thanks—"

"—Oh! And this is my quarter number, but I'll mostly be in the medbay." you flipped open his wrist panel, tapping in some directions if they ever needed you.

And with that, you left their barracks hoping that summarised what your job was and how they could cooperate. Echo had the most disgusted look on his face.

"You saw it too?" Hunter asked Echo, already knowing how your ex-separatist actions slipped into your job.

"Of course I saw it." Echo grumbled.

You had been tending some of the 212th and the 501st in the medbay after a mission on Ryloth. Many stories were told when you sat down with a few of the troopers such as being attacked by gutkurrs, punching battledroids (because that was smart) and rescueing a few Twi'leks.

Waxer and Boil mentioned about saving a little girl which you thought was pretty adorable.

"Ooh, you might wanna be careful there, trooper," you chuckled as Waxer hissed, trying to sit up, “That wound isn't completely healed so for the mean time, you gotta rest up,” you gently patted his armoured shoulder piece and he sent you a kind smile.

Just as you were about to tend to the next unit, you received a beep coming from your breast pocket. It was the transmission disk assigned to Clone Force 99, "AZI, cover me for a while. Got a transmission incoming," you waved the disk at AZI before leaving the medbay area to go to your office.

You shut the door behind you and plugged the disk into the holo-table, the blue light of the transmission lighting up the room.

Hunter was kneeling down with Echo resting against his chest who looked like he passed out. His shoulder piece was slashed to bits as it clung onto him. Did it even look like a shoulder piece?

"Y/N, so glad you could chime in, Echo's sustained a massive hit from one of the walkers on Raxus. We don't really know what's happened but he's not waking up." Hunter's voice was low, but the tone of worry was prominent.

"We are currently entering Kamino's atmosphere,” you heard the modulated voice of Tech in the background.

You nodded at the Sergeant, your eyes scanning Echo's limp figure, "Bring him to medbay 02, I'll be waiting."

Hunter ended the transmission and the room faded back to black. This is the first transmission you've received from the clones using the disk. Most of the medical contacting they've done was through your comm channel.

Swiftly, you unplugged the disk from the table and shoved it down your pocket as you headed for the door. You were lucky Kamino invested in primarily sliding doors otherwise if you pushed it open, a loud bang would have been heard down the medbay halls. Professionally, you walked with quite some speed towards the other end of the medical wing to medbay 02 where you'll meet the boys.

As you reached the bay doors, you hastily grabbed your keycard to open them. Considering it wouldn't be a problem for the Batcher's to get in, you shut it behind you. There were two vacant rolling beds with plenty of machinery around it. A pre-made tray for injuries and examination sat next to one of them. It was filled with all kinds of tools and medication so you excluded the ones that were unnecessary for Echo's perusal.

You rolled the medical trolley to one of the beds. With your foot, you flicked the wheel locks so it would stay stationary. Since the other bed had wheels too, you gently pushed it back so it made more room for you to move around the space.

The medbay's sliding doors swooshed open, revealing the five Batcher's. One of Echo's arms were slung around Tech as Hunter cared for his other, Crosshair and Wrecker standing behind them for moral support for their brother.

Your eyes went wide at the state of the clone. He was beyond the stage of weak so you swooped under him, taking Hunter's place to assist his path to the medical bed.

"Tech, help me get his armour pieces off, please," Tech responded with a small nod, getting to work on Echo's kama and leg pieces. You heard the clang of his holsters as Tech set them down on the trolley.

You were surprised that he knew his way around the medical area. Gently, you clicked off his chest piece and set it beside his leg armour. Out of your periphal, you could see a very worried Wrecker, a hand of his snaking to the back of his neck to scratch it nervously.

"He'll be alright, Wrecker," you clicked off the last pieces of his armour and you silently thanked Tech, "I think it's best if I dismiss you all while I stay and examine Echo."

"With all due respect, sir, it’d be best for you to let us stay here and keep an eye on him," his hand came out in an objecting manner, "Just in case something goes wrong. We're his brothers after all."

You sent Hunter a simpering smile as you made your way around the bed to sit on a rolling stool, "With all do respect, Sergeant, it does seem we're in a medical atmosphere and I do outrank you in this... occupation." Hunter glanced at Tech who merely shrugged at him.

"Very well."

You gently lifted Echo's arm so it was elevated, "If it does make you feel better, you can wait outside as I do this?"

"Yes please!" you heard the big guy speak. The four troopers began to leave the room and your attention was brought back to Echo who was slowly waking up from his unconscious state.

There was a nasty slash on his left shoulder as you carefully rolled up his blacks so it only exposed his human arm. You hadn't realised until now that he had a mechanical arm; a scomp for a hand. You couldn't help but scan his body with your curious eyes. The whole half of his torso was practically machinery. Half-droid, half-human. You had also realised that his cybernetic headpiece made his head rest funny against the pillows.

You tucked a pillow under his neck in hopes it made him somewhat more comfortable, "Thanks," a low voice spoke below you. You almost yelped as you got used to the silence of tending to the clone below you.

"Oh good, you're awake," you chuckled as you went back to cater for his injury? "This is quite the emergency, huh?"

You fully expected a chuckle to come from the clone but it was just silence. His eyes peered down at you like a hawk hunting for its prey. It's almost as if you could feel his stare. You ran a bacta pad around the perimeter of his cut to clean the crusted blood. In return, Echo hissed at the sudden temperature change on his arm. Obviously when he sustained the injury, it felt like Mustafar was coming out of his shoulder.

"Sorry, trooper." you reassured him, placing a clean pad against his arm to wipe of the excess bacta.

"ARC trooper." he finally spoke after what felt like years. It was snappy but it got the message across.

You coughed, trying your best to clear the awkwardness, "Sorry, ARC trooper." you said more in his tone.

You put down the messy bacta pads in the bin after you cleaned the dirty skin around his cut. It looked like it needed to be stitched together and then submerged in more bacta. You reached over for some tools so you could begin the stitching at the top of his shoulder first.

As you looked over at the clone to tell him in a silent way you were going to stitch, his eyes were judging. He was staring.

Again.

"Echo? Y'here? I said I was going to begin your stitching?"

"You're part of the CIS."

You were slightly dumbfounded at the sudden topic, "What?"

"You're a separatist."

You chuckled at his stubborness. Was this a trait most clones have?

"Ex-separatist." you clarified, your voice more stern to gain dominance over the ARCT.

You sprayed the cuts' surface with numbing spray before you began stitching it. It was silent once again but Echo's mind was churning.

He still couldn't believe his team allowed you to be assigned to them. Especially a couple of months after his traumatic experience in becoming a pawn for the separatist knowing his brother's lost battles because of him.

"Still a separatist." it rolled of his tongue quietly.

"Well, at least I was smart enough to leave the CIS and join the Republic." you made your way inch by inch down his cut with skilled stitching. Echo hissed at some of your movements causing you to stop briefly before continuing.

"Took you long enough," he complained. "You could've been killing some of my brothers and for what? Feel of victory?"

You sighed, slowly growing irritated at the clone's words, "I never stepped foot on the battlefield. I worked on Admiral Trench's ship and improving droid programming," a thundering grumble escaped Echo's throat at the sound of Trench's name coming out of your mouth like it was nothing. You noticed how is human fist clenched, tensing up his arm that was still fresh with stitches.

"I advise you not to clench your hand like that, I'm still working on a raw cut here and I can't have you moving." you gritted your teeth, trying to stay as professional as possible.

"You sound like him too." he hissed, referring to Admiral Trench.

You shook your head at his response as you progressed lower and lower down his arm with the stitching. Yet the trooper was still going on about you.

"I really think you should be happy that I joined the GAR and left the CIS," your breath fanned against his non-injured skin. Admittedly, he was glad you're in the Republic now but couldn't help that you worked for the seppies for who knows how long. "I joined them because they were willing to help when the Republic wouldn't."

"Yeah? CIS went out of their way to take innocnet lives captive for territory and authority. Does that solve your issues?" Echo said, agitated.

"Your society surrounding the GAR was corrupt and selfish—"

"You sound a lot like the seppies I used to battle."

"Your past shouldn't be determining the future."

"Don't mention anything about my past, separatist scum." it was too quick to process. He sat up, his face inches away from yours that was filled with more than anger; teeth gritting and eyes squinting at you. You glanced everywhere besides him, his gaze was dominating and dark, making you feel inferior even in his injured condition.

The bay doors swooshed open. Hunter was astonished to find his brother getting all up in your face when you were helping him heal, "Echo!" he barked, clanking footsteps making their way over to you two.

"It's okay, Sergeant," you put your hand against Echo's healthy shoulder to push him back down on the bed. "It was just a triggered reaction." you sighed, looking back at Echo. Luckily, the stitching was complete so all you had to do was wrap him in infused bacta bandages.

Hunter was breathing heavily, "Yeah..." Echo murmured. Hunter nodded at you before making his way out of the medbay. He was more than sure to have a stern chat with Echo later.

As you went to sit back down in your rolling stool, you faced away from Echo. Solely because you didn't want to make him angry even more that'll lead him to be even more injured. You opened a drawer to fish out some infused bacta bandages to wrap the cut in.

Surprisingly, Echo's eyes softened. Your posture seemed weaker, your back arching instead of up straight like most doctors did. He felt bad for snapping at you and getting up in your face but cowardly, he didn't say anything.

What he thought he said was right so why did he have to say something? Instead he kept quiet as you finally turned to him just to avoid eye contact and get his bandages over and done with.

It was a simply roll, wrap, and knot for a shoulder.

"Done." you were a lot quieter now, thinking any more words that left your mouth would trigger something worse from him. You pressed a red button on the side of the bed to let the Batchers know that his brother was ready to move but needed to rest more.

The doors slid open as the four clones walked in. Echo glanced at you one more time before pushing himself to stand. He wobbled a bit, alerting Tech to support him under his right arm. Hunter was happy that Echo seemed better than he was straight out of the battlefield. He went to go thank you, but you raised a hand in front your chest to stop him, flashing him a reassuring smile before walking out of the room.

All the clones watched as you hurriedly exited the room, their eyes eventually turning to Echo.

Hunter spoke up.

"What did you say to her?"

Post-Notes: now that i look back, the ending does sound like a pull to a part two... i wasn't planning on making one but if you guys do really want one, let me know! i hope you enjoyed :p

#echo the bad batch #star wars #ct-1409 #arc trooper echo #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #echo x reader #clone trooper x reader #mooonjin #first fic!! :D

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